Empire of Warriors
by Ebanu8
Summary: Book 1 of the Empire of Warriors series. Having stopped an indoctrinated Turian rogue Spectre in his tracks, only to be rewarded with nothing for her efforts, she is suddenly thrust into a new galaxy full of unimaginable wonders thought impossible to exist, and new dangers worse than even the Reaper hordes. Would she survive to return home, or fall victim to supernatural dangers?
1. Prolouge

**A/N: Thank you all for your patience, I am back from my long hiatus (even though it doesn't seem to be that long, in my opinion) and ready to bring you yet another rewritten version of my multi-crossover, and I can solidly promise you guys this will be the absolute final rewrite, no future ones planned.**

 **So to start off, I won't be getting the Citadel Council to encounter the Empire and its friends yet, and, spoiler alert, it will be taking place after ME1. Other than that, I don't want to spoil the surprise.**

 **Also, I've properly planned out my story this time, since my last attempt was a haphazard mess which was totally unsatisfactory when I thought about it.**

 **But other than that, enjoy reading, and may the Empire stand strong.**

 **Prolouge: The Beginning**

Space. The Endless Void home to an endless number of star systems housing hundreds of planets, home to millions of living beings of different races, all destined for different paths.

Some would evolve from their primitive roots and ascend to the stars while others would doom themselves to premature deaths at their own hands. Some would survive the dangers of the Void and live to tell the tale, others would fail and succumb to the challenges of establishing a galactic community, falling to civil strife and clashing of ideals.

No one would expect to encounter scourges of the galaxies, and when they do, many would fall in total war; unprepared, negligent, weak.

Few ever survive, only to face yet another scourge, as if nearly every race was doomed to fall into oblivion, any memory of them fading away as the sands of time continued to flow eternally.

But on a little-known, backwater planet called Thedas, where all its native races were condemned to tear themselves apart through unending civil war, one man would rise and unite the entire world through unbreakable determination and nerves of steel, and through the combined effort of his entire family and all loyal friends and subjects, catapult the world into a new age of invention and racial harmony.

Having fought alien invaders tooth and nail once to save Thedas from certain destruction, all its races united to form an interstellar empire that would span over dozens of star systems, colonising over a thousand planets to forge a galactic power unrivalled in glory and splendour, home to the galaxy's greatest warriors.

Now, the tale of one of the descendants of the Great Herald of Invention, the third High Emperor of the Thedosian Empire, and the fourth Cornerstone General of the Empire, a tale of honour, bravery and love, may at last be told.


	2. History throughout the Ages

**Xolosis:** I will try to upload on a set schedule, but I do tend to have mood strikes from time to time, so I guess it's a bit of both. **  
**

Chapter I: History throughout the Ages

 _Extracted from the Imperial Annals of History, written by Head chronicler Bastutlu Adaar..._

9:31 Dragon

The Fifth Blight ravages the Kingdom of Ferelden, when King Cailan Therin and his army try to hold the encroaching Darkspawn horde. Mysteriously, his advisor, Loghain Mac Tir, leaves him and his army, along with the Ferelden Grey Wardens for dead at the ancient fortress, then spreads the lie that the Grey Wardens betrayed the King that day, causing a huge division among the Ferelden nobility.

Following the schism within the King's ranks, despite the looming danger of the Darkspawn horde, civil war erupts between supporters of Loghain and Cailan as they strive for supremacy, threatening to weaken the already vulnerable Kingdom further.

Those of Cailan's supporters who survive go into hiding; among their ranks, King Cailan and Duncan – the then Ferelden Grey Warden Commander – manage to find what's left of the Ferelden Grey Wardens and move to secure aid against the Blight using the ancient treaties they recovered from a ruined watchtower in the Kocari Wilds.

At the same time, a man named Sebastian Sardothien – who would arise to become the Chief researcher of the Thedosian Empire – gathers a huge number of followers, unbound by racial restrictions; Elves, Dwarves, Humans and even a scant few Qunari, and forms a large multi-ethnic army to counter the Darkspawn in several small skirmishes throughout the country.

Eventually, the time for the final confrontation came; the Darkspawn led by the Archdemon Urthemiel, invade the capital of Denerim and fight the newly-formed coalition under the leadership of King Cailan and Sebastian in an intense, bloody battle, buying time for the Warden Commander Duncan to slay Urthemiel, ending the blight as soon as it began.

After the blight, in a shocking move, Cailan grants Sebastian the fiefdom of Redcliffe, the official reason being that he distinguished himself in the Battle for Denerim and no other man as capable as him was available to replace the deceased Arl Eamon Guerrin, who died during the final battle of the Fifth Blight.

Sebastian accepts, on the condition that he and his new fiefdom are granted semi-autonomy from the Ferelden Sovereignty.

Cailan also grants the Ferelden mages autonomy and the Dalish Elven Clan Sabrae the fortress of Ostagar, and promises the Dwarves of Orzammar that the Ferelden army would aid them in fighting the Darkspawn in the long-abandoned Deep Roads, after which he allows the leaders of the Elven Alienage to represent themselves during future Landsmeets as equals of the nobility.

A few days later, Cailan abdicates in favour of his illegitimate brother, the Grey Warden Alistair.

9:32-9:40 Dragon

The following years see much rebuilding and upgrading works being performed throughout the country to repair the damage done by the Blight, with huge advancements in technology being made by scholars of both the Ferelden and Dwarven Kingdoms, allowing both Kingdoms to enter a new Golden Age of prosperity after the hellish Blight.

Redcliffe, under Sebastian's leadership, becomes one of the most Elven-friendly cities in the whole continent of Tarendal – then known as Thedas, before the alien invasion – and becomes the first true multi-ethnic city with an influx of Dwarven and Qunari immigrants, the latter being purely mercenaries of Tal-Vashoth, with a wide array of advanced weaponry at the city's disposal. A population of lycanthropes also settles in the region; though there was apprehension between them and the locals at first, they are soon accepted with little problems.

With a combination of Elven magic, applications of technology to agriculture and educating of farmers on more productive yet sustainable farming methods, harvests become more plentiful to the point that Ferelden began exporting its excess produce to other countries and communities including the Avvar tribes and the other Dalish Clans still scattered throughout the continent.

With the ancient magic of the Arcane Warriors being rediscovered, many mages soon underwent rigorous training to form a new group of warrior magi who would prove formidable in battle.

Qunari Ben-Hassrath spies stationed throughout Ferelden try to undermine the progress of the technological revolution throughout the country, but fail in their efforts due to Sebastian's own spies countering their moves; this serves to heighten Sebastian's wariness regarding the Qun, and so he petitions King Alistair to strengthen the border guard and order them to be on the lookout for any spies trying to enter the country in disguise.

At the same time a growing religious movement threatens the Orlesian Chantry's influence in Ferelden, preaching to the common populace on how the Orlesian clerics had made use of their authority to satisfy their personal agendas, and how they had lied to them about the so-called 'heretical' Elves and how mages were not people in their eyes.

This sparks massive public outrage on the treatment of the Elves and mages, which sees many supporters of the Orlesian Chantry being arrested and put on trial for misusing their authority, and King Alistair passing a new policy dictating the Andrastian Chantry no longer having any say in politics and recording of history.

The Dwarves manage to reclaim more than four thaigs nearest to Orzammar, and by using enchanted runestones to provide artificial light for crops growing in their underground farms, become less reliant on food imports from the surface, allowing them to fund more money for the reclamation of the Deep Roads.

In 9:35 Dragon, turmoil begins to stir in the Orlesian Empire as Alienage Elves begin to protest against their masters regarding their appalling work conditions and unfair wages. Their unhappiness boils over into massive riots all across Orlais, which saw the Orlesian army cracking down on the Elves harshly, killing dozens and sending many more fleeing towards Ferelden, hearing of the country's acceptance towards Elves.

Incensed and infuriated, both King Alistair and Arl Sebastian send a letter to Empress Celene Valmont I of Orlais, condemning the actions of the Orlesian nobility and demanding that she and the rest of her court pay compensation for the dead.

 _Dear Empress Celene of Orlais,_

 _We are appalled on how little control you have over the Orlesian Chevaliers, seeing how they ruthlessly and callously murdered the Elves who simply protested over their horrible living conditions, and treating them as nothing more than pieces of garbage that should be discarded. If you preach equality for both Elf and Human, why then, Honoured Empress, have you allowed your loyal Chevaliers to commit this atrocity? Was your ideal merely an excuse for you to cement your place as leader of the most powerful Empire in the whole continent?  
_

 _We cannot overlook and tolerate a heinous crime towards the Elves such as this, and as such, we demand that you pay a compensation of five thousand sovereigns for those dead, and that the Chevaliers responsible for the massacre be executed for their crimes, for we can no longer trust you to impart impartial judgement on those guilty.  
_

 _We sorely wish that you do not compound their crimes in the future._

 _With regards,_

 _King Alistair and Arl Sebastian of Ferelden_

Empress Celene, typically enraged by the letter, refused to pay the compensation and even let the guilty Chevaliers walk free, as if they never committed the atrocities in the first place.

She orders trade with Ferelden to be stopped entirely, in the hopes of crippling the Ferelden economy, and gathers an army led by her cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, at the border stronghold of Jader, just a short distance from Orzammar.

At the same time, the Ferelden army gathers at two separate locations; just opposite the Orlesian army stationed at Jader, and in secret at the village of Haven in the Frostback mountains, using a secret passageway to take advantage of most of the Orlesian army gathering at Jader, which left most of the Dales unguarded.

Allied with the Fereldan army were the Dalish Elves, the werewolves, the dwarves, a few Avvar tribes and the Chasind; the Chasind remembered the Orlesian occupation, while the Elves were promised the return of the Dales.

The Orlesian army, for its part, believed in its numerical superiority over the Fereldans, outnumbering the fourty thousand-strong army by nearly twice the number, while the Fereldans and their allies had faith in their advanced technology and magic, and their experience in war, having survived the Fifth Blight.

The two armies clashed at Jader, with the Orlesians suffering heavy casualties as the coalition army utilised rifles, cannons and unusual magic to whittle down the enemy's numbers; the templars who aided the Orlesians in battle had much difficulty fighting the arcane warriors of the Ferelden army, as did the Orlesian mages.

With the Elves and werewolves constantly harassing the Orlesian army where it was vulnerable, and the Ferelden guns killing more Orlesians at an alarming rate, the battle was over as soon as it began, with many of the Orlesian levies – all of them farmers who had no real training – fleeing the battlefield in fear of meeting the same fate their superiors did.

The Orlesian navy fared little better, with the Fereldan galleys taking them out easily at a distance with heavy cannons and mortars, the Dwarves helping their Fereldan allies with the newly-invented Gyrocopters, flying machines that shot fire and ice in endless barrages, and dropping exploding bombs from above, decimating the wooden ships with little effort.

The Orlesian army retreated from Jader, only to find that they have been caught between a rock and a hard place, the other section of the Fereldan army having snatched Halamshiral, Lydes and Verchiel from Orlesian control while they were lightly guarded, leaving the survivors no choice but to surrender.

The rest of Orlais is quickly fortified by the remaining Orlesian Chevaliers, who marshal more troops to counter the invading coalition army, fighting many battles that only served to weaken Orlais further, a combination of Orlesian arrogance and stupidity being the main culprit for the repeated defeats at the hands of the Fereldans, who move to secure the rest of the Dales.

Growing desperate, Celene orders two of her Chevalier commanders, Gerald le Guern and Hanwyn le Bail, to reinforce the cities of Val Firmin and Val Foret.

At Val Firmin, Gerald fights tooth and nail to keep the Fereldan army from taking the city, dying a violent death at the hands of werewolf soldiers and sacrificing many of his men in the process.

For Hanwyn, however, he surrenders without a fight, allowing the invading army to take Val Foret unopposed; it is said that when asked for the reason for the unconditional surrender, it was that he felt sympathetic to the plight of the Allienage Elves, and the recent massacre made him lose faith in the Orlesian crown.

With the Orlesian navy annihilated, the Ferelden navy is free to blockade the Waking Sea, preventing shipments of food from reaching the port cities of Val Royeaux and Val Chevin, starving the defenders inside.

As the small town of Mont-de-glace was lightly guarded due to its proximity to the Sea of Ash and the Sulphur Pits, and that Orlais saw no importance in fortifying the town even then, it was quickly taken with hardly any resistance, allowing Ferelden access to a rich supply of Sulphur and Saltpeter to make the gunpowder needed for their guns.

When the coalition army reached Val Royeaux, they saw that the defenders refused to surrender, despite being plagued by famine. Feeling generous, King Alistair and Arl Sebastian give Celene one last chance to surrender peacefully, with the safety of her court and all civilians within guaranteed, though any guilty Chevaliers among them would be executed with prejudice.

Celene stubbornly refused.

On the 3rd day of Drakonis, in the year 9:37 Dragon, the city of Val Royeaux is bombarded by cannon fire, the marble walls of the port city easily crumbling under the sheer kinetic force of blazing cannonballs.

Storming into the city, the coalition army mercilessly slaughtered any loyalist templar and Chevalier standing in their way, conquering the city easily as the beleaguered defenders could hardly hold their weapons in their agonising hunger.

With the city fully under their control, the soldiers were ordered to evacuate the city's inhabitants out of Val Royeaux, before they torched the Grand Cathedral to the ground, leaving the shocked Orlesians looking on as the symbol of Andrastian faith, built in the span of two centuries, burnt to ash in less than a day.

Once Val Chevin had also been conquered, Celene reluctantly surrenders and accepts the three conditions set to her by Alistair and Sebastian.

One, the cities and strongholds that were conquered no longer belonged to Orlais and were officially under Fereldan control.

Two, in exchange for keeping the remaining cities of Ghislain and Churneau, and less than half of the Nahashin Marshes, Orlais was to never wage war on Ferelden ever again.

Three, the Tirashan region was to be under control of the Kingdom of Ferelden.

After signing the rather unfair peace treaty that left Orlais as a shadow of its former self, great outrage arose within Celene's court, the remaining nobles arguing hotly between reclaiming lost Orlesian lands and leaving things be.

Celene pushed for moderation, but she quickly lost control over her own court, as a huge majority of the nobles beckoned for the Chantry to call an Exalted March on the Kingdom of Ferelden, only to find that the other Thedosian nations are unable to respond; a mage rebellion was marching throughout Tarendal tearing their forces apart, fanatical separatist templars worsening their woes as they spared no one in sight, be it mage or non-mage.

This did not dissuade some of the nobles from gathering their forces, starting the Orlesian Rebellion in 9:40 Dragon.

As the Dalish Elves re-established the Kingdom of the Dales as their homeland, the Winter Palace at Halamshiral is torn down, replaced by a new stronghold they named Ar'bellanaris, the Place of Eternity. It serves as the new Elven seat of power and houses a Council of Keepers who form the government body of the reconstituted Elven Kingdom.

Two years earlier, in 9:38 Dragon, the political situation in the city of Kirkwall worsened, as the Grand Cleric Elthina was assassinated when the local Chantry imploded in flames, which happened soon after the death of the Viscount Marlowe Dumar. As tensions between mages and Templars were already threatening to boil over, with the death of the Grand Cleric, it turned into all-out war between the two sides, with the people caught in the middle.

Covertly, agents sent by Alistair and Sebastian evacuate the people – both Humans and Elves – to safe places outside the city, along with templars and mages who did not participate in the conflict, while a part of the Fereldan army stormed the city and killed both templar and mage barring their way, aided by the local guard led by Guard Captain Aveline.

Eventually they cornered the templars in the Gallows, where Knight-Commander Meredith succumbed to the corruption of the dangerous substance that was red lyrium.

With a power vacuum left in the wake of the Mage Rebellion, the Champion of Kirkwall, Marian Hawke, was named Viscountess. Meredith's red lyrium sword was mysteriously gone, no trace of it left behind.

9:41-9:42 Dragon

In an attempt to stall the conflict between templar and mage, Divine Justinia V tries to mediate a peace conference between the leaders of the two factions at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, only for the temple itself to implode in a bizarre explosion of magical energies.

The sky is ripped asunder, with a large gaping hole known as the Breach growing larger by the hour.

The one who stops it from growing larger is Emmanuel Sardothien, who would become the Thedosian Empire's first Emperor, who reforms the Inquisition as he acts on a writ from the late Divine Justinia V, with the aid of the Hands of the Divine, Leliana and Cassandra.

Under his leadership, the Inquisition rapidly gains influence from its base in Haven, and quells the Templar and mage rebels, who have distanced themselves from the Orlesian Chantry entirely.

Then, with aid from both mage and templar, the then Inquisitor Emmanuel seals the rift, but the celebrations that followed were short lived, as a templar army under the command of a corrupted, ancient Tevinter magister moves to invade the village.

His name was Corypheus, and he would not stop at anything in his mad quest for absolute power.

Reclaiming the ancient fortress of Skyhold, the Inquisition continued to gather influence and allies, and continually waged battles with the supremacist Venatori, diehard fanatics in service to Corypheus, finally defeating the magister for good at the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes by banishing him to the fade.

After the defeat of Corypheus, the Inquisition is relegated to nothing more than a peacekeeping force, though it still held considerable influence in the continent. The Frostback Mountains became home to a few dozen Dragonkin – which was then unknown to the rest of the world, with many young few old, and begin to establish a permanent settlement in the region.

9:43 Dragon – 10:99 Invention

On 1 Pluitanis, 9:43 Dragon, Delmalrith Son of Emmanuel is born.

The next one hundred and fifty-six years would see massive improvements in technology and widespread anarchy, as the existence of the Dragonkin and their more wayward brethren, the Bloodborne, were revealed to the world.

Within Ferelden and among the Chasind, Avvar and Dalish, peace endured due to the new Andrastian teachings making the general public more accepting of the Dragonkin, though people acted cautiously around the Bloodborne, some even reacting to them with outright fear. Throughout the rest of the continent, Andrastian fanatics began to unite to form Andraste's Army, a gathering of zealous soldiers who have sworn to eradicate all traces of magic and dragons from the face of the world.

Declaring their own Exalted March, they march to conquer nearly the entire continent, mercilessly slaughtering anyone in sight, Andrastians included – those who did not conform with their deviant beliefs. The last territories of Orlais fall to their onslaught, and with Empress Celene dead at the hands of the fanatics, Orlais was ended as a nation, and ceased to exist.

The Antivan Crows had mobilised to hamper Andraste's Army, but mysteriously, at least ten die in every assassination attempt at their leadership which all end in failure, leaving Antiva vulnerable to conquest and bringing the eventual extinction of the Antivan Crows. The cause was never discerned.

Elves and mages all across the continent flee to the safety of Ferelden, with a united army gathering at the Kingdom's borders to protect it and eradicate the army of fanatics led by the True Chantry, a group of Orlesian clerics who wanted revenge for the destruction of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux.

As Kirkwall and Wycome were the only cities in the Free Marches to follow the teachings of the separate Fereldan Chantry, they are prime targets for Andraste's army, who tear through the countryside, pillaging every village along the way.

Aided by their Dwarven, Avvar, Chasind and Elven allies, the Fereldan army marches to crush the army of fanatics, showing no mercy to their enemies; the Dragonkin are unable to participate in the war as their numbers were severely low and many were unskilled in combat.

Despite their magical and technological superiority though, the tenacity, stubbornness and numbers of Andraste's Army heavily hampers the coalition army's efforts to crush the fanatics once and for all, with the army even threatening to stretch itself thin on more than one occasion.

The followers of Andraste's Army also had hidden themselves fairly well from the encroaching allied army, concealing their hideouts in many inconspicuous locations. Having no patience, Sebastian orders his soldiers to capture whatever fanatics they could and subject them to mind control, compelling them to divulge the locations of their hideouts or kill their own fellow brethren by performing the role of suicide bombers.

Andraste's Army had ceased all activity in the continent roughly two months later.

Following the end of the brief but brutal war, Nevarra, Antiva, the Anderfels and the Free Marches struggle to rebuild, the Fereldan Chantry replacing the Orlesian Chantry as the dominant religion of the continent.

The Dwarves reclaim the lost Thaig of Kal'Hirol, which becomes a great centre of learning for Dwarven smiths once more. It becomes a new staging point for future incursions into the Deep Roads.

In 9:44 Dragon, a Qunari spy is found dead in the Fortress of Ar'bellanaris, prompting an investigation by the Inquisition, with Emmanuel managing to stop a plot to assassinate the Elven Council with mysterious aid from some of his Elven subordinates.

This causes Emmanuel to quickly assemble his companions – with Sebastian doing the same – and follow an increasingly complicated trail of clues to find a band of Qunari led by a Viddasala, who tried to pave the way for a Qunari invasion of Thedas as one of their spies had tried to assassinate the Elven Council.

The Viddasala and her band of Qunari were quickly dispatched, and with help from an Elven mage named Solas, the network of Eluvian mirrors is discovered, but all the mirrors are hidden away from the public's eye in order to avoid misuse of said mirrors.

Soon afterwards a rebellion erupts in Tevinter, when a group of Elven slaves revolt against their masters in the streets of Minrathous, aided by a group of Magisters who fought alongside them against their fellow magi.

One of them, Dorian Pavus, would eventually be heralded as the Father of Tevinter for establishing a new society that changed Tevinter forever, having fought many battles to liberate more of his fellow countrymen and slaves to eventually overthrow the ruling Archon.

A few years onward, and though peace is tenuous at best with insurgencies erupting time and again, it endures to see Tevinter society undergo radical changes from the inside out. The country's economy also sees a huge growth due to trade with Ferelden and the other Thedosian countries.

The new Tevinter government, which consists of a group of people forming a Council known as the Senate, also signs a Defensive Pact with the neighbouring countries of Antiva, the Anderfels and the Free Marches, as the Senators anticipate an invasion by the Qunari.

In 9:54 Dragon, the Senators' concerns were confirmed when Qunari ships sank Tevinter galleys just off the coast of Minrathous in the Vocen Sea, alerting the country to a massive invasion force just off the coastline. The invasion is repulsed, but at a heavy cost, with over ten out of nineteen galleys of the defending navy sunk by the Qunari dreadnoughts.

In response, Tevinter, along with the other Thedosian nations including Ferelden and Antiva, the latter having established its own standing army, invade the island of Seheron, where they meet heavy resistance from the Qunari garrison.

With gritty determination and lots of gunpowder, the invasion force manages to take the island with help from Tal-Vashoth fog warriors, who apply mounting pressure on their common foes, over the course of only a year.

The united army then moves to Par Vollen, where their fleet immediately encounters a flotilla of Qunari dreadnoughts barring their path along the Boeric Ocean and Venification sea, the situation becoming grim for the invaders until a fleet of ships from the Anderfels secretly move along the Colean Sea to flank the Qunari dreadnoughts at the gap between Seheron and Par Vollen at the Boeric Ocean.

The united army had lost nearly a third of their forces in the sunken ships, but casualties would have been worse were it not for the first ever ironclad ships joining the battle.

The war for control of Par Vollen was long and protracted, putting a strain on the Thedosian army's supply lines as it had to deal with unfamiliar territory and strong defences that manage to hold out for almost twenty years, massive casualties being sustained by both parties as neither side dominated the other.

In the end, in 9:75 Dragon, the Treaty of Par Vollen is signed by both the Thedosian nations and the Qunari Triumvirate, agreeing to make Par Vollen a buffer state in-between their respective lands to prevent further wars between them. The island itself becomes home to many merchants who quickly develop the land and build a trade metropolis where both sides export their goods to, so long as they respected the locals' neutrality.

In 9:78 Dragon, with permission from the now old King Alistair, the Elves move to establish new settlements in the Arbor Wilds and the Tirashan forest, the colonists' numbers quickly growing over the next one hundred years. After securing ownership of the Arlathan forest from Antiva through diplomacy, the Elves move to reclaim and rebuild the ancient capital of the old Elvhen Empire for the first time in several centuries.

After over three decades of campaigning, and with the death of the last Archdemons, the Dwarves had finally reclaimed the whole of the Deep Roads, with many long defunct thaigs and cities being rebuilt and fortified.

Peace had endured for over a century well until the near end of the Invention Age, as the entire world had entered an unforeseen Golden Age of prosperity, with the Dragonkin beginning to repopulate their abandoned cities and strongholds, re-establishing their civilisation in the process.

New inventions were being constantly made at least every decade, with First Contact having been established with two new races in 10:12 Invention; the Dark Elves and Orcs. The former were a race of dark-skinned Elves with silvery hair, and were very adept at previously unheard of forms of Dark magic, and are non-immortal just like their bright-skinned counterparts, with an average lifespan of two centuries. The latter were a spiritual people who followed the teachings of powerful priests called shamans who had power over the spirits of the wild, and were considered rather primitive in the eyes of many due to their lack of knowledge in the fields of architecture and most others most civilisations were expected to have.

Nonetheless, both communities see benefits in becoming friends of the Thedosian nations, and quickly establish trade relations that benefit both parties.

The Sovereign was established as the world currency, and the Chantry calendar as the standard calendar.

Five years after First Contact with the Dark Elves and Orcs, the first ever satellite is launched by the Kingdom of Ferelden into outer space, providing a means of faster telecommunications around the world.

The world nations come together for the first time in 10:50 Invention to draft plans for building a space elevator in Ferelden that would extend to the stars, allowing for specially made mining transports to mine asteroids that were supposedly drifting in space around the world.

Initially, there was much scepticism regarding the ambitious project, as the sheer amount of metals required would put a massive strain on their metal production, so many countries avoid contributing financial support to what was seen as a fruitless project.

Sebastian, determined to prove them wrong, requests for his fellow Dragonkin to help replicate the metals needed for the huge construction project, which took nearly an entire decade to complete.

Once success of the project was proven, as samples of metal mined from the asteroid belt surrounding the planet were brought back for analysis, all other countries are motivated to build at least two more space elevators in both the Free Marches and the Anderfels, all worries of finite resources erased as a more sustainable source of metals was secured.

In less than four decades the two space elevators were finished and a giant ring connecting them neared completion.

In 10:99, the Great He'lith invasion had begun, as alien ships bearing an invasion force appeared within distance of the space satellite orbiting Thedas.

It was a brief war that lasted no more than a few hours, but it was one of the most brutal wars the Thedosians ever fought before they even ascended to the stars; millions of soldiers and civilians dead, hundreds of thousands of sovereigns worth of infrastructural damage incurred, thousands of hectares worth of land rendered uninhabitable, the once pristine world of Thedas had become a hellish environment for the survivors, making their victory a hard-won victory paid in blood.

Yet, the survivors rallied with surprising quickness, and a world summit of leaders was called at Skyhold; there, they signed the Free Resource Agreement, allowing the various races and kingdoms of the world to easily give and take resources whenever needed.

11:00 Rebuilding II – 12:99 Galactic

The various Thedosian nations – excluding the Avvar and Chasind – quickly unite to form the Human Commonwealth to assert control over much of Thedas, with the aid of their armies which maintained peace over the territories they controlled.

The bright-skinned Elves native to Thedas become known as the Wood Elves; both the Wood Elves and Dark Elves uniting to form a new subspecies known as the High Elves. They establish the Elvhenan Republics and control the Dales along with the Arbor Wilds, Arlathan, the Tirashan Forest and parts of old Antiva.

With the Dwarven Kingdoms miraculously surviving the orbital bombardment – though two of the major thaigs had been buried in a sea of earth – and the Dwarves running out of space to expand underground, bands of Dwarven settlers had begun to move to the surface, establishing the first Dwarven surface settlements.

Lacking an effective government, the Dragonkin crowned Emmanuel Sardothien as their king, and all territories and cities under their domain call themselves the Dragonkin Conclave.

A previously unknown Goddess, Yggdrasil quickly gained many followers both Human and Elven, with even a few Qunari converts joining the believers' ranks. Another God, Malacith, also gains many converts among the general populace.

Faith in both Gods had grown immensely over the years by proof of their existence and the ability of their servants to enact their miracles, as they heal the scarred landscape to make it inhabitable once more.

After only eight years, most of the infrastructure had been rebuilt, and a steady supply of raw materials was established. With rebuilding efforts taken care off, the public had set its sights on one new goal.

Revenge.

A world summit is held at Skyhold, the leaders of the various factions throughout the discussing a union between their respective factions and races. Debate rages heavily on how they could congregate together to form a new galactic power without sacrificing their laws and culture.

In the end, the Dwarven Kingdoms, Qunari Union, Human Commonwealth, Elvhenan Republics, Dragonkin Conclave and the Orcs unite to form the Thedosian Empire, with Emmanuel Sardothien crowned High Emperor. The Inquisition becomes a special operations force to orchestrate covert operations behind enemy lines, though the Inquisition itself numbers little more than a thousand personnel.

The Council of Monarchs is established to represent the interests of every ethnic group within the Empire, to ensure no race is slighted by the others.

The planet is christened Thedas, the continent renamed to Tarendal.

From 11:09 Rebuilding II to the end of the Galactic Age, the Empire poured countless resources into reverse-engineering the alien technology that could be salvaged, and by combining it with its own, created a new branch of technology known as arcanotechnology, a fusion of science and magic.

At the time of the Empire's founding, one of the first policies passed by Emperor Emmanuel is the Asthanal Accord, entailing mandatory conscription of all men and women into the Imperial Army at the age of eighteen, and the training of all Thedosian children in the arts of war at the age of five.

Through the development of terraforming and galactical navigation technologies, and the implementing of new family planning policies, over a hundred planets belonging to three sectors had been colonised. Orbital stations and shipyards were built and operated at each planet, strengthening the Imperial Astral Navy. Research academies, factories and blacksmiths worked with painstaking effort to craft new weaponry for its Guardsmen and Knights to wield, to even the odds against the He'lith in the war to come.

At the end of the second Rebuilding Age, the latest census placed the total strength of the Imperial Army at a total of over 8 billion soldiers, both Guardsmen and specialist forces, with the Astral Navy numbering over 800,000 ships in total. The Empire's population tallied over 12 billion over all the worlds under its rule, thanks in part to every Thedosian family having between eight to twenty children.

At the end of the age, from this moment, the Thedosians' thirst for revenge had begun.

13:00 – 35:96 Eternal

An age characterised by the seemingly eternal, grim darkness of war, it was the second war Thedosians ever waged with the He'lith, and an infamous period known for the atrocious number of casualties - both civilian and military - sustained throughout this period on both sides.

It was known that Emperor Emmanuel and the entire Empire swore a blood oath, to never rest in their crusade against the tyrannical He'lith until every single one of them was exterminated from the face of the galaxy.

Many battles fought in this period earned historic significance - though many more were forgotten from the annals of history, thanks in part to the valour and tactical brilliance displayed by some of the Empire's finest warriors and strategists(for the full list of battles, see Volume III - Battles of the Ages).

At the end of the war, over 8 billion Thedosians had perished in the war against the He'lith Slavers, and at least a hundred planets in both Thedosian and He'lith space were rendered uninhabitable by glassing. Survivors of the He'lith regime had continually challenged the Empire, even until after the Eternal War.

In 35:90 Eternal, after the end of the war, the Courtyard of Heroes was constructed in the Imperial Palace, full of statues of great heroes renowned for the dedication and sacrifice they showed in their unwavering loyalty and service to the Empire.

It was to honour a select group of heroes that forever engraved their deeds into the annals of history, most of all Emperor Emmanuel and his brother Sebastian, the latter honoured for the significant contributions he made to the advancement of arcanotechnology; both died heroic deaths in the final battle that sealed the aliens' fate.

After mourning for the both of them for two whole weeks, Emmanuel's oldest son, Demalrith, takes his seat on the Obsidian Throne.

Yet, even after the end of the war, as peace reigned, Emperor Demalrith did not tolerate any slackening in the Empire's stance towards war, as he foresaw that another enemy would soon trouble the Empire as the He'lith did. Neither he nor his inner circle or any Imperial Citizen ever dare to think the Eternal War had ended, even with the great victory they had achieved over the He'lith.

In 35:96 Eternal, Emperor Demalrith's suspicions came true, as the Tyranids attacked the Empire at the outlying colonies.

Like a locust plague that consumed everything in its path, the Tyranids ravaged the Empire as if it were prey ripe for the picking, and over the course of less than two decades, the Empire's forces were violently beaten back to its home planet, forcing the Empire's scholars to quickly devise a solution to end the Tyranid thread and save the Empire.

The end result was the Godwraith, a massive construct that would release a wave of magic to eliminate the Tyranids' very existense, though it had a cost; anyone who fired the weapon would have his very life consumed by the construct to fuel the spell.

During the bloodiest climax of the Eternal War that would decide the fate of the Empire, Emperor Delmalrith had decided to fire the weapon himself, giving his life to save the Empire he swore to protect.

His reign was the shortest by far, rulling for only six years before dying a heroic death.

The Tyranids were gone, but no one celebrated the end of the war; far too many died violent deaths, the dead beyond count as Thedosians slowly rebuilt their Empire.

Amarthathor succeeded his father on the 1st of Justinian, in the year 35:96 Eternal, becoming the Third Emperor, six days after the end of the Eternal War. His first orders were to increase the Empire's agricultural capabilities to prevent his people from starving - as many of the Empire's breadbaskets burned during the War, and to form a new Order of Knights called the Empireguard to protect the Empire's territories.

He was by far the youngest Emperor to assume the Imperial Throne, at only two hundred years of age at the time of his ascension.

35:97 – 65:85 Eternal

Over five centuries after the Eternal War, with only half of the Empire's former territory recolonised, a patrol stumbled upon the wreck of a suspiciously organic-looking ship at our borders; though it was not reminiscent of the Tyranids, the Empire's forces nonetheless remained on alert, with a group of Knights despatched to accompany a research team to investigate the bowels of the ship.

The shipwreck was void of any potential enemies looking to invade the Empire, though an egg was found nestled deep in its boughs, which the scholars took to study in the research academy.

After a few days, the egg hatched, revealing an insectoid-like creature. Though it was unusual, it bore absolutely no resemblance to the Tyranids, a fact which all Thedosians are thankful of.

Through its method of projecting its voice through a puppet body, the creature revealed itself to be the last surviving Queen of a long-thought extinct species named the Rachni, leaving her as the only hope for its species' survival. When asked for the reason behind its species' near-extinction, the reasons given are that it fought a war with another species centuries earlier, and that the other Queens were supposedly corrupted by what it calls the 'Sour note'.

Neither are perceived as good omens for the still-recovering Empire, so security on every world under its control is heavily increased.

In 36:65 Eternal, on the 21st of Wintermarch, a day after First Contact with the Rachni Queen, High Emperor Amarthathor passes the Constitution of Amgeforn, detailing the Empire's responses to a First Contact scenario: for a brief overview, should it progress peacefully, the newly-encountered race or conglomerate of races was to be peacefully interacted with, save for when circumstances change. Should it turn for the worse, the Empire was to prepare for the worst-case scenario - war.

It is discovered that the Rachni are able to thrive on any worlds, including toxic worlds normally uninhabitable for many; it just so happened there were a few dozen worlds of such toxic nature, and in exchange for being given said worlds to thrive in, the Rachni Queen – now christened Zi'Thoak – teaches our scholars about a previously unknown element known as Element Zero, characterised by its ability to nulify the mass of any material so long as an electrical current is passed through it.

Zi'Thoak also informs the Emperor of mysterious constructs known as 'Mass Relays', supposedly able to make use of Element Zero to catapult ships at speeds faster than light.

Two hundred years after accepting the Rachni as a race of the Empire, the very first Mass Relay is discovered at the edge of Empire territory. After activating the Mass Relay and testing it a few times, its speed was found to be terribly inferior to the Arcane Portal Drives employed by Imperial ships. Assuming the worst-case scenario, Emperor Amarthathor orders every newly-discovered Mass Relay to be destroyed to deny any invader access to Empire-controlled space through the constructs.

The next three millenium would see at least ten more relays destroyed completely, each subsequent relay destroyed in short order, though a sample of the relays' constituent metals is retrieved for study; it is discovered to be extermely dense and durable, somewhere on par with our ships' armor plating, much to the surprise of many.

To counter this, weapon development picks up with fervor, with weapon and armament production factories operating at maximal capacity.

Element Zero was discovered to have its own advantages, but it also carried a terrible drawback; magic-wielders - which included all Thedosians - were especially susceptible to severe poisoning by the element, and after no more than ten cases of cancerous tumours developing on victims' bodies, the Emperor was compelled to outlaw the element from common use. Some scholars however, turn to technological means to harness the element's power, and the end result was an isotope dubbed Extrasolarium, its properties far more potent than the pure element, yet completely harmless to sentient life. It becomes one of the staple materials used in Thedosian technology.

A study on the Empire's strength revealed that it had slightly over a thousand planets from nearly fifty solar collectives under its dominion, with one and a half trillion soldiers and two million ships serving in the Imperial Guard, Imperial Navy and many of its Chivalric or Knight Orders.

On the eve of Santalia, in 58:98 Eternal, First Contact is established with another Galactic Power, the Azerothian Coalition; a conglomerate of races possessing of magical prowess and military strength somewhat similar, yet not nearly enough to match that of the Empire's.

Governed by a High King, a Warchief and a Highlord supported by a Council similar to the Council of Monarchs, the Coalition was in control of over five hundred planets in twenty-eight solar systems, and possessed an army numbering no less than 500 billion personnel and a navy armed with over a million ships - almost half of the Empire's strength.

Like the Thedosian Empire, the Azerothian Coalition had also survived a gruesome war, against another enemy named the Burning Legion, some dubbing it the Scourge of a Thousand Worlds, and was in a constant state of emergency as it prepared for skirmishes waged on their territory by elements of the Legion.

This prompts the Empire to be on the lookout for any presense of demons using Fel magic, or any of their artefacts composed of Fel Steel.

The Ebony-Silver Concordat is signed between the two powers, the conditions including a Mutual Defence Pact and Trade Agreement applied to both the Empire and Coalition.

Clerics of the Light from the Coalition begin to spread their faith among our populace, earning many followers, our Warrior priests of Malacith and Champions of Yggdrasil earning similar progress among the Azerothians. Similarly, the Army of Light gains many Thedosian followers, bolstering the ranks of the Paladin Order.

As more Thedosians began to learn Light magic from the Priests of the Light, by adapting spells from the Paladins, a new breed of warriors – the Crusaders – quickly arose to greatness within the Imperial Army's ranks, and was soon recognised as an official monastic order by the Emperor, and the Warrior Priests of Malacith and Yggdrasil.

By this point, over a tenth of the Empire's legion is composed of Rachni soldiers, who are capable of quickly building trenches for our soldiers in the battlefield and possess fast mobility surpassing the speed of horses, making them effective mounts for calvary units.

The Rachni navy itself utilise fast-moving ships made to dodge enemy fire, but lack the same durability our ships have, and are fitted with powerful shielding to compensate, with projects underway to improve the durability of said ships.

The next six or so centuries or so would see brief but bloody skirmishes with elements of the Burning Legion, testing our fresh troops and new technology against the Demons.

In 65:78 Eternal, the Empire encountered another galactic power, this time an alliance of Humans and aliens called the Korprulu Alliance, the name being derived from that of their part of the galaxy; the Alliance consisted of Humans - who name themselves Terrans - and two other alien species, the Protoss and Zerg – the latter somehow bearing striking similarities to the Rachni; the Alliance between the three kindreds is tenuous at best, the three races having only just fought each other in gruelling wars two years prior.

The Alliance leaders tell those of the Coalition and the Empire about a looming danger that threatens to engulf the entire known universe, and immediately sign the Ebony-Silver Concordat set by the Empire.

By far, the Korprulu Alliance has the weakest army out of the three powers, with their economy ranked in a far but stable third, but compensate with their psionics, the Zerg granting an advantage in the rate of replacing soldiers lost.

As the Korprulu Alliance is mistrusting of outsiders due to the wars they fought against each other, only a Defense Pact and Trade Agreement is signed between the three powers.

2nd of Cloudreach, 65:85 Eternal. The barely recognisable remains of a Human are discovered on Galathalas, though the brain miraculously still survives; the organ is brought back for resuscitation.

The body is then reconstructed through the use of bio-reactors and healing magic, revealing a woman who would come to be known as the Fourth Cornerstone General.

General Alexandria Shepard.

 **A/N: Here is the timeline chapter, this time its structure is much more thought out, and I've left out certain things compared to the previous version, such as the statistics for certain battles, as that was where I began to screw up.**

 **If you are wondering how Shepard even ended up in Empire space, that will be explained later on.  
**

 **Anyhow, I shall meet you again, when the Empire triumphs.**


	3. Stranger in unknown land

**A/N: I just could not understand why hardly anyone other than one fanfic author I stumbled upon never made a Dragon Age/Mass Effect crossover where the people of Thedas would advance to the galactic stage and own the Council. That's partly why I am doing this story.**

 **Chapter II: Stranger in unknown land**

" _The first thing I felt when I woke up, was that I thought I was in dreamland. I mean, Elves, magic and whatnot? Seriously?_ " _\- Alexandria Shepard, at the beginning of her memoirs._

" _All hands on deck, I want all personnel to evacuate the ship immediately!"_

 _All around her, fires raged throughout the ship as its structural integrity continued to degrade under the constant barrage it was sustaining. Tongues of fire licked the metallic walls, making the environment unbearably hot even in the comfort of her armor's internal environment. Where once was a neatly organised corridor clean of unnecessary obstacles, now remained only a chaotic shadow of its former self, metal debris scattered all across the ship.  
_

 _Great tremors shook the ship, causing her to stumble and lose her balance more than once as she struggled to find the last remaining survivor at the ship's helm, who was attempting to save the ship from certain destruction._

" _...too much damage! I can't hold her!"_

 _With much reluctance and after persuasion, the surviving head pilot abandoned the helm and managed to reach the last remaining escape pod, the mini life-saving construct evacuating him to safety._

 _The last remaining survivor though, after evacuating all other surviving members of the crew, was jettisoned from the horribly damaged ship into the cold embrace of the void, then felt herself burning up as she was pulled into the nearby planet's atmosphere._

 _Her last thoughts were her crew's shouts echoing in her head, whether they somehow reached her or were simply due to a trick of the mind._

" _Commander!"_

" _..Commander..."_

A woman awoke, startled by the nightmare she had just experienced. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, which she promptly wiped away with a linen sleeve.

 _Wait, linen?_ The woman wondered, _This wasn't what I was wearing last time I checked._

Looking around, she could see that she was in a hospital of sorts, but none of which she recognised from her memory.

The room itself was filled with quality, ornate furniture adorned with intricate, artistic carvings, the beds covered by silken smooth linen that seemed far too expensive for a hospital, though the linen itself was plain white, no outlandish colours present on the blankets. It felt remarkably smooth and silken to the touch in her hands, truly a fabric fit for kings.

The faint scent of herbs filled the room, as the woman could see what looked like a fair-skinned woman tending to a patient of the same race as hers, with multiple others waiting, all bearing some manner of injury, some mere flesh wounds bandaged in white linen, others sporting gashes across parts of their bodies, the more unfortunate ones nursing bandaged, bloody stumps where their limbs should have been.

Tending to them all were a group of healers, one of them moving towards her, carrying a tray of refreshments - a simple affair of a porcelain cup of aromatic, forest green tea, and a bowl of cream coloured stew.

As she moved closer, Shepard could just notice how long and pointed the ends of her ears were, along with her other features.

Fair, smooth skin that was the envy of many, long, silken, crimson-coloured hair that cascaded down the back of their heads, and vibrant, piercing eyes that seemed to peer into souls. Tall she stood, Shepard gauging her height at about 1.9 metres, which would give her the habit of looking down on shorter individuals just for the mundane purpose of talking. Her choice of clothing consisted of a robe of black gossamer, shrouding her second layer of a white tunic and raw sienna breeches beneath, though to Shepard's confusion, she wore no footwear, instead choosing to walk barefoot.

What truly caught her eye though, was the presence of tattoos on their skin; not minimal to the point it was partly visible or hidden entirely, but to the point the tattoos ran across their entire arms or neck, and even covering fully half the face.

One of them, the doctor, bearing long ebony hair tied into a long, single braid, seemed to notice that her newest patient had awoken, and greeted her with a warm smile, " _Aneth ara, da'len._ It is good to see thee awaken from thy slumber."

Not understanding what the 'doctor' just called her, the woman awkwardly greeted back, "Hi... I guess."

Happy that her charge was fully awake, the Elven healer said, "You have been asleep for three whole days, after our Knights rescued you from certain death at the outskirts of the city."

The woman nodded, then looked at her clothing; she was thankful she was not wearing a dress of sorts, since she never fancied feminine clothing, instead wearing a plain white, long-sleeved linen tunic with earth brown breeches reminiscent of jeans hugging her athletic-built body nicely, accentuating her feminine muscles.

Satisfied at her clothing, she then asked the Elfin healer, "What really happened? I don't remember anything after I crashed."

At this question, the Elf's smile faded, her lips setting into a grim line as she answered, "When we found you, your body was nothing more than a charred pile of flesh and bone, the only intact part being your brain encased in your helmet. It was only through our Knights' fleetness that you were brought to the Houses of Healing in time."

The woman blanched, then blurted out in disbelief at her renewed state, "Wait, if it was as bad as you said, how the hell am I good as new?"

The Elf answered, "Once we recovered and preserved your head, we healers reconstructed your body using bio-reactors to clone new body parts to piece it together through surgery. We have also taken the liberty of replacing your bones with new cybernetic enhancements, just to inform you."

The woman was shocked just processing what she had been told; even with the latest technology allowing for tissue regeneration, the process itself was far too slow; even just one limb needed an entire month to clone through tissue regeneration. Therefore, all patients who had a limb amputated, whether by surgery or losing it in the chaos of battle, replaced them with cybernetic implants instead.

The fact that these Elves - or whatever their nationality was, since other races were present - managed to piece her body together in just a few days meant that they employed much more advanced technology than the entire Council combined; they might even have the power to challenge their authority, even.

Shaking herself out of her state of shock, the woman stated, "Now that I think of it, we've never introduced ourselves, haven't we?"

Chuckling slightly, the Elf happily said, "No, we have not." Bowing slightly at the waist, the Elf gladly said, "I am Kalora Tabris, Chief Healer of the Forge World of Galathalas of the Thedosian Empire."

"Commander Alexandria Shepard," The woman said, extending a hand, "Nice to meet you, Kalora."

The two shook hands, after which Shepard asked, "Mind if I inquire what's the Thedosian Empire?"

Kalora raised an eyebrow at that.

"You have never heard of the Empire?" The Elfin Healer said in confusion, not believing her for a brief moment, "The strongest interstellar Empire in the known cosmos, home to an army of the strongest, noblest warriors that are the envy of many?"

"Not in the slightest," Shepard replied, equally confused about the whole subject regarding the Empire.

At that moment, the doors parted to reveal an armoured Elf panting heavily, his immaculate, ornately crafted armour and huge battleaxe stained by green patches with the same consistency as blood.

"Father Alaven?" The Elf said in surprise at the new arrival's condition, "What in the name of the Gods has happened to thee?"

"Elements of the Burning Legion are attacking the Forge World!" The Elven warrior warned, wiping the unnaturally coloured blood from his dirtied face, "Supreme Lord Admiral Kiritsugu and a division of the Ethereal Armada are on their way to reinforce the colony, but we shall be on our own until then."

Kalora's mood visibly soured, sighing heavily as she turned to face a confused Shepard.

"What the hell's happening? Who's the Burning Legion?" Shepard inquired, concern in her eyes.

Moving to grab her staff and a nearby suit of strangely archaic armour – at least, in Shepard's eye, Kalora quickly said, "There is no time to explain! Make haste to the nearest shelter and wait out the invasion! Gods willing, the Forge World shall endure this assault."

At those words, Shepard went to put a hand on Kalora's shoulder, her eyes filled with a steely determination.

"I want to help defend the colony," Shepard said, iron in her words, "I can fight."

Sensing the resolve in Shepard, Kalora told the soldier before her, "Head to the local armoury. The Quartermaster shall outfit you with the necessary weapons."

Nodding her thanks, she moved towards the exit of the healer's ward and followed Father Alaven as he guided her to the local armoury. Along the way, Shepard had the rare opportunity to gaze at her surroundings, and saw a few sights that were beginning to raise suspicions in her mind that the colony was not belonging to Elves only.

Tall, mighty structures dotted the landscape, the buildings built in an avalanche of different designs. Large banners depicting a roaring dragon against a backdrop of pitch black and a crown of laurels flew high in the air, proudly raised on the roofs of the tallest buildings.

All around her, people of different races, what looked like Dwarves, Elves, grey-skinned horned people, and surprisingly Humans – this, Shepard did not expect in the slightest – were all rushing back and forth, rushing to arm themselves at the armoury to prepare for the defence of the Forge World, whilst the sky literally burned with strangely-coloured, demonic fire.

Upon reaching the armoury, Shepard was somewhat appalled to find that the weapons and armour available were all the types that should be biding their time in museums, not to be used in actual, modern warfare at all!

All manner of melee weapons, from swords, to hammers, to axes and spears, lay ready to take from the multiple weapon racks surrounding her, and the armour was predominantly of somewhat archaic, yet ornate design, each full set crafted to perfection by master blacksmiths.

At least there were some rifles and other guns – much to Shepard's relief – all in optimal condition as Shepard quickly grabbed a rifle (with assistance from the quartermaster), its internal compartment glowing an eerie, ethereal turquoise, and an axe that was nearly as long as her arm – though she preferred an omni-blade, her omni-tool was nowhere to be found, so she settled for a weapon with maximal offensive power.

The axe itself was double-bladed affair, made of a pure, bone white metal that shone with a dim, yet radiant light, and promised only death with the cold kiss of its sharp, gold-trimmed edge; the carving of a dragon adorned the axe head and glowed a radiant golden yellow, and a string of alien words were engraved on the shaft, with the grip made of a cobalt-blue leather.

Even to Shepard's less experienced eye, the axe she wielded was a work of art, yet somehow, despite her doubts, she felt it was also capable of performing its primary function in the battlefield.

The rifle she held in her hands was a stark contrast; black, jagged thorns jutted out along the length of the gun, and the muzzle was shaped in the likeliness of a wailing skull, with the window to its internal compartment revealing an eerie, foreboding blood red light within.

 _What the hell's up with these weapons?_ Shepard wondered in utter disbelief, unused to seeing such uniquely made weapons as she hastened to don a suit of armour, _Either I'm really in dreamland or whoever's commissioned these weapons has a really strange mentality on how weapons are made._

Without further delay, she hastened to the areas of the city where most of the colony's defenders were rushing towards, giving her ample hints that said areas were where fighting was the most chaotic.

As she rushed towards the inner city districts, where the colony defenders were headed, Shepard found that she ran at a much faster pace compared to before her near-death experience, most likely due to her new cybernetic implants enhancing her body functions, though most of the militia were able to keep up with her.

Eventually, they reached a scene of nightmarish bloodshed; bodies of abomination and defender alike littered the streets, the colour of crimson mixing with a sickly green as the blood of both parties splattered the whole place.

Across the streets, the colony's defenders valiantly held out against the onslaught of the abominable horde as literally _thousands_ of demons threw themselves on the rigid walls of gleaming metal that were the defenders holding up shields in the ancient Human formation of a shieldwall.

Many a shieldbearer formed shieldwalls against the constant, endless tide of pure wrongness that was the encroaching demons, raising their weapons and drenching the streets with foul-smelling blood, all the while their comrades pelted arrow, bullet, magic and spear back at the enemy, determined to make them pay for every inch of land they took with blood.

But the defenders were not simply killing abominations with brutal efficiency. For every creature they killed, they took a step forward, pushing back the tide of abominations as they fought to protect their homes and families.

The gruesome sight of the massively chaotic battle was enough to give Shepard pause, though her training and instincts took over when a condensed ball of eldritch fire landed near her position, her training taking over as she unslung her strange rifle and firing upon the monsters with zeal, pulses of ghostly wails and crimson light filling her senses as any demon who was unfortunate to suffer its effects cried out in agony upon being stricken by the rifle's ammunition.

Shepard had to utilise all of her willpower to maintain her focus, whilst drowning out the screams of pain and agony all around her and ignoring the nightmarish bloodshed that splattered on her armour, ruining its once pristine state.

Overhead, Shepard could see a huge hole being ripped open in the sky, spitting gouts of fire – this time more ethereal than ghastly – that landed on the encroaching demons, killing a large score of them in the process.

She turned to see the same healer who tended to her levitating in the air not far from the ground, her eyes glowing with the fury of raging souls as primal power gathered in her hands, the skies thundering in response to her will. At her whim, the skies obeyed her command and struck down any demon that dared come near her and her brothers and sisters-in-arms, radiant lightning illuminating the skies as demon after demon fell to their might and power.

 _Holy shit,_ Shepard breathed, not believing what she just saw, _I never knew she could do that._

Behind her, whilst Shepard was distracted, a creature stealthily sneaked behind her, an expression of both smugness and anger spread across its face as it drew a demonic dagger, ready to plunge it into her heart.

It certainly would have, had it not been for the timely intervention of a particular Elven priest whom Shepard briefly saw when he brought news of the attack.

Hefting his axe with superhuman strength, Alaven hacked the poor creature into half as the cold metal of the battleaxe cut cleanly through its flesh, drawing Shepard's attention as she laid eyes on the corpse of her would-be assassin.

Shepard could see an expression of pure, unrestrained hatred and fury adorning the Elf's face, just as he barked orders in English for the men to hold firm and await reinforcements.

Nodding her thanks and mentally berating herself for being so easily distracted, Shepard resumed her morbid task of firing a withering barrage of eldritch magic upon the abominations, and as a lucky soul jumped over one of the nearby shieldwalls, hacked it mercilessly with her gleaming axe, the weapon seemingly burning the creatures with a righteous fury.

Alaven, refusing to be outdone by their new charge, chanted in a tongue completely foreign to the Spectre as he clasped the necklace of a tree branch dangling on his neck, every syllable becoming louder as his chanting increased its pace.

By the time he finished chanting, his body became bathed in immaculate, forest green light, giving off an aura that seemed to fill the souls of the men – and Shepard, by extension – with a newfound courage and determination that rallied them to fight onward, undaunted by the scale of the demonic attack.

Roaring a war cry, Alaven began cleaving any demon that poured through weakpoints and gaps in the shieldwalls that began to give way, his glowing aura simply killing any demon – at least what were considered the lesser ones – that came too close to him, delivering his furious wrath upon his enemies.

Axes and daggers rose and fell, and the demons were beginning to understand the wrath and ferocity of Shepard and Alaven, the former an embodiment of brutal efficiency and cold pragmatism, the latter a mixture of righteous zeal tempered by iron determination.

All who charged towards them found that the duo were more than they bargained for, and as the creatures began to cower under their furious assault, the defenders took advantage of the brief window they had and began to reform their ranks, unwilling to give the enemy any more gaps in their formations to exploit.

For a brief moment – in Shepard's eyes, the situation seemed to take a turn for the better, as fewer demons were charging their positions.

Then a loud, inhuman roar rang in the distance, as a group of nearby militia were ruthlessly struck down and swept away under the blade of a looming abomination warlord.

The creature himself was incredibly fearsome in both appearance and actuality, a cross between a Human's torso and a lizard's bottom as its horns and mouth burned with the same ghastly, unnatural fire that rained from the sky – any that was not conjured by the colony's 'wizards'.

One of its huge, meaty hands carried a huge trident the height of a skyscraper, stained crimson red from the blood of many a foe that perished at its sharp edge, bearing demonic sigils that glowed bright despite being covered in blood.

Laughing sadistically, the creature hefted its trident swept it across a group of militia who heroically charge, cutting through them like melted butter.

"Your pathetic militia cannot hold the colony for much longer, Warrior Priest!" The demon bellowed, his flaming mouth baring its ugly glory in full, "The Burning Legion shall destroy the Empire, and all civilisation across the cosmos!"

Alaven, instead of replying, charged the huge demon, hefting his axe in hand as he moved to roll away from his huge trident that created a huge gap in the ground where it impacted, then hacked one of its hooves, spilling green blood and eliciting a cry of pain from the demon as steam hissed from his newly inflicted wound.

Infuriated, the demon raised its trident in an attempt to crush the infernal insect in its sights and put an end to the Priest, but he would be denied that attempt as Shepard, along with many of the colony's militia, fired volley after volley of withering fire upon the demon, forcing it on the defensive as it tried to block the hail of projectiles endlessly pelting his humongous body with its unprotected arms.

Trying to retaliate, the demon unleashed a storm of magic, dark tendrils of felfire lashing out unsteadily as they claimed the lives of any who were unfortunate enough to be struck by them, his accuracy severely hampered by the constant fire it had to withstand and the relentless assault of the Warrior Priest, who continued to hack at its legs, then began to climb up its body.

Seeing this, the demon tried to swat the offending insect off with its meaty hands, only to suffer a direct shot of lightning to the face – courtesy of Kalora, which caused it to cover its injured eye with its hand, so it settled for shaking its body wildly.

Undeterred, Alaven continued to climb up the demon's back, then, with all of his might, buried his battleaxe in the skull of the demon, and promptly leapt off, engulfing his entire body in a dome of transparent light as soon as his feet touched the ground.

At this, many of the militia nearest to the dying demon immediately threw themselves under the protection of their gleaming shields, Kalora erecting a translucent barrier of magic over them.

Shepard seemed confused about their actions as she took cover alongside the militia, then she soon received her answer.

The demon's body erupted before their very eyes, huge gouts of flame shooting forth from it as it threatened to incinerate all who stayed too close to the corpse, had it not been for the timely conjuring of the arcane barrier that protected them from the sea of fire.

For a moment, Shepard was worried about Alaven, who had not taken cover behind a shieldwall.

Her worries were unfounded, as Alaven's barrier of light held firm and shone as brightly as the sun, no trace of burns found on the Elf's body.

Unfortunately, the demon onslaught did not cease, and within minutes, the colony's militia were beginning to be overwhelmed, while Kalora and Alaven fought onwards with Shepard, trapped like cornered rats.

"You fight well, Shepard," Alaven commented, finally breaking his silence, "I only wish we met under better circumstances."

"Never wanted to die lying down anyway," Shepard replied, wiping green blood from her face as she continued to loose eldritch magic from her rifle.

"You possess a courage-" Kalora began to say, but was promptly beheaded, her lifeless corpse falling to the ground.

Before long, Alaven was subject to the same fate, and before Shepard could react, she felt something impact on the back of her head.

The last thing she knew was that the colony was doomed to be destroyed by the demons, before her mind succumbed to unconsciousness.

IIOII

Pain throbbed ceaselessly in her head, her eyelids heavy as she tried to awaken from her slumber. Little by little, her vision became clearer, until she was able to analyse her surroundings.

As she tried to move her body, she found, much to her frustration, that her limbs were bound by metallic shackles and chained to a wall, and a set of metallic bars were but one of many obstacles between her and her freedom. Worse, her body felt strangely numb, which made her unable to move any part of her body but her mouth and eyes.

She thought of simply smashing the shackles against the wall then making a run for it, but thought better of it when she saw the unholy symbols on the shackles, which gave her reason to think that they were much more durable than they looked.

Looking around, she could see that the demons had placed her under heavy guard, as two humanoid-looking demons stood guard at the entrance to her prison cell, with yet another two blocking the doors to her prison cell.

Her attention was brought to the footsteps of an approaching figure, whose appearance was not what Shepard expected of the demons she had fought.

It, or he, was human in appearance, but Shepard could see that veins of foul green ran along his entire body, his skin coloured an unnatural black, most likely a result of the corrupt magic that ran deep in his veins. His apparel consisted of long, midnight robes adorned with the same blasphemous sigils Shepard saw on her shackles and the huge demon's trident, and a simple circlet crowning his bald head. In his hand was a long staff of metal, a crystal burning with felfire adorning the tip.

Smiling wickedly, the Human made his way to Shepard's cell, and inspected her like she was one of his personal trophies to be disposed at a whim.

"It was troublesome to bring you onboard our ship, not with the meddlesome Empireguard interfering with our conquest of Galathalas," The Human said, his irritating smile never fading, "But I suppose I can forget about it, not when I found such a rare specimen to experiment on."

"Oh yeah?" Shepard taunted, remaining defiant, "And what the hell do you think I'm so important? You don't even know who I am, for God's sake."

Chuckling at his captive's spirit, the Human decided to humour her and answered, "Oh, but where are my manners?" Bowing slightly – and mockingly, in Shepard's opinion – at the waist, the Human said, "I am Wyndam Clemons, leader of my little army of demons."

At this, Shepard raised an eyebrow.

" _You're_ the leader? I thought that big-ass demon was the one in charge," Shepard said, not believing what Wyndam just said.

"I suppose you are correct, in a sense," The Human nodded, "At least until your friends killed him that time, so that makes me – his second-in-command – their new leader."

"You haven't answered my earlier question," Shepard reminded, "What's so important about me that you had to give up your 'conquest' and settle for taking me hostage instead?"

"Ah yes, I was about to get to that part," The corrupted Human said in mock-forgetfulness, much to Shepard's chagrin, "You see, unlike most warriors of the Empire, you exhibit an unusual aura the likes of which have never been encountered before, one that somehow enrages nearby demons just by you being near them; its other effects - if there are any - are unknown to us, but I believe you will make a fine specimen as we examine you, inside and out."

Shepard gritted her teeth, trying her best not to lash out in anger at the wicked Sorcerer before him, instead settling for a harsh, withering glare that would send any ordinary person running in fear.

Yet she was confused at the same time by Wyndam's words; she knew she was a charismatic leader who drew capable talent to her sides, even if she did not wish so, but being able to enrage demons with an aura she did not know of? That was both unusual and intriguing.

Wyndam relished in the anger Shepard felt towards him; personally, he could not care less on the fate of the people who stood in his way. All he cared about was finding new, exquisite specimens to play with whilst he climbed the hierarchy of power to lead his band of demons to ultimate domination of the universe.

"And when I become more powerful than I truly am," Wyndam muttered, mostly to himself, but loud enough for Shepard to hear, his voice reaching a crescendo, "I shall take my place as one of the gods themselves, and subjugate any who stand in my way!"

Shepard stared at him like he was a lunatic as he began cackling evilly, yet she saw their power at Galathalas, so who was to say they could not? Unless...

"Just one question," Shepard asked, "You're not the leader of the _entire_ Burning Legion, are you?"

"Of course not," Wyndam snorted, irritated at Shepard's ignorance, "My army is but a mere fraction of the horde that our master Sargeras assembled, though after the Coalition had managed to kill him for good, there has been a schism within our ranks, so the most powerful demons split the military power between them and we have constantly fought for supremacy since then."

As Shepard listened, she could tell that Wyndam was giving willingly giving her the information she asked for, and this was usually something an enemy would not do, but the way Wyndam carried himself suggested a huge amount of complacency and arrogance.

It seemed that wherever there was benevolence and justice, arrogance and cruelty would always follow wherever it existed, no matter what society it was; it was the way of the galaxy, after all.

"Enough delay," Wyndam said, breaking Shepard's train of thought, "Bring our new prisoner to the torture chamber. Tell my servant to prepare my tools for me whilst I relish in the torture of our other captives."

Unlocking the doors to her cell, the two guards stationed there immediately disconnected her shackles from the chains, and forcibly dragged her towards the torture chamber where she would be subject to gods-know-what at the hands of the sadistic torturer.

Along the way, Shepard could see dozens of prisoners chained within their cells, though they never stopped glaring at their captors in defiance, the light of vigour never fading from their eyes. They all laid in various states of injury, some with black bruises, some with flesh wounds. All, however, were kept alive by some semblance of medical care as some treated their fellow prisoners with a strange golden light, one that caused the injuries to vanish without a trace; whether it was to delay their inevitable fate as one of Wyndam's guinea pigs or to instigate a rebellion, she did not know.

The prisoners chained within their cells cast glances at her way, looks of pity directed towards her as if understanding what fate awaited her at her destination.

Soon enough, Shepard was roughly tossed into a room full of all sorts of strange tools and scalpels, and a table of sorts with restraints ready to hold down a rowdy test subject.

Waiting within was a humanoid creature, a man with a huge, burly build and miniature tusks jutting out of his mouth, his eyes glowing with felfire as he set a jar full of green liquid and a brain – Shepard did not want to think about who it used to belong to – on one of many shelves containing specimen jars, taking care as to not shatter any of them.

" _Master Wyndam says that the subject is to be prepared for one of his experiments_ ," One of the guards stated in a language unfamiliar to Shepard.

" _Understood_ ," The humanoid nodded, " _I shall prepare the prisoner experimentation_."

Shepard struggled to move as the guards left, but the numbness did not disappear from her body, leaving her helpless as the humanoid hefted her onto the torture table and locked her arms in the restraints, most likely as a pre-emptive measure to avoid dealing with a rebellious test subject in the case her numbness faded.

Shepard hated it. She hated every moment feeling helpless as she awaited what gruesome fate her captors had in mind for her.

Oh, how she so desperately wanted to exact bloody revenge on these demons, how she would mercilessly kill them for what they would do to her, and for all their victims who suffered similar fates.

But she could not, not while her body was unresponsive; not while the ship itself was swarming with demons in every nook and cranny; not while the other captives were on a tight leash.

But she still held hope, hope that help would arrive and save them from this nightmare.

Hope... that she would live to see another day.

IIOII

A lone flotilla of ships traversed the void of space, their crew working feverishly to track down their newly assigned targets: the demons responsible for the attack on Galathalas.

In the flagship, christened the _Aspect of Honour_ , a long, sword-shaped monstrosity measuring at an astounding hundred kilometres, a lone man sat on his chair, cleaning his long, ebony katana as the fleet under his command travelled towards the last known location of the demon fleet.

Said man stood taller than most men; at about two metres tall, he wore a suit of armour reminiscent of what ancient Samurai wore, overlapping plates of obsidian, gold-trimmed metal held together through a special adhesive that clung to his grey bodysuit underneath like magnets attracting each other. A black, silver-trimmed, twin-tailed surcoat was worn over his armour, its length extending all the way to his calves.

Long hair as white as snow cascaded down his shoulders, his facial features slender yet chiselled, his skin as fair as a beautiful woman's, making a handsome face that would otherwise be ruined by the trio of scars that ran across his lip. On the right side of his face, an avalanche of black markings ran across his neck and right arm; many would be wise not to assume such markings as mere tattoos.

His eyes, amber orbs against a backdrop of black, narrowed in anger and sorrow at the thought of the militia who died at the hands of the infernal beasts, all of them willingly forfeiting their lives to protect their loved ones.

He did not care who he would fight sooner or later, only vengeance mattered, and no one would stop the Empire from exacting just that.

A flash of light on his chair's armrest interrupted his thoughts, bringing his attention to a hologram of a Dwarf wearing ancient golden armour dating back to the days of the old Dwarven Kingdoms, his hair arranged into a short crew cut, the beard barely reaching below his neck.

"High Admiral Kiritsugu," The hologram addressed him, his face set in a grim expression, "We will soon exit interstellar travel in less than a minute."

Kiritsugu nodded, sheathing his cleaned blade – not that its state of cleanliness would matter soon enough – in its scabbard.

"What of the status of the Armada, Bhelen?" The High Admiral inquired, reaching for his helmet that lay on a nearby table, "Are my troops battle-ready?"

"All ship systems are operating at optimal capacity and your troops are more than able for battle," Bhelen answered, a ghost of a smile adorning his lips, "We await only your command."

Once Kiritsugu put on his helmet, its visage transfixed as a snarling dragon, he felt complete, ready to slay scores of demons with his blade as revenge for those lost at Galathalas.

No one would stop him or his army.

"Once our ships drop out of interstellar travel, have them immediately disable the demon ships' engines, then prepare boarding parties to liberate any surviving prisoners. Ensure no demon survives this day."

Hearing the High Admiral's order, Bhelen acknowledged it with a warrior's salute, placing his fist across his chest.

"Understood, High Admiral. These beasts stand no chance against the Ethereal Armada," Bhelen said, his hologram vanishing from Kiritsugu's chair.

 _It is as the Created Intelligence said_ , thought Kiritsugu as he moved out of his quarters to the command deck.

No demon would stand against the Ethereal Armada and live to tell the tale.

IIOII

Having fought the Empire and its allies many times, the demons had taken care to keep their ships' weapons primed and ready to fire at any enemy, if only to survive for another day of slaying their enemies with impunity.

The demons' ships – all made in an assortment of designs – burned bright green, the fel steel radiating its foul, green light for all to bask in its terrifying glory. Counting the number of ships, it tallied at a total of twenty-seven, both large and small.

Outside their defensive formation, numerous arcane portals opened, and a fleet of black ships, numbering not more than thirty, surrounded the demon fleet of slightly less, their weapons immediately firing on the most vulnerable part of the fel ships': the thrusters.

With the thrusters disabled and damaged to the point they would have to be repaired off the battlefield, the flotilla of black ships fired on the demons' with impunity, destroying any who were thought to house absolutely no prisoners within their hulls, under the Created Intelligences' guidance.

Bright lances of sapphire blue lit up the dark void of space, followed by arcs of lightning and orbs of golden yellow, as they leapt forth from the numerous turrets lined along the broadsides of the black ships, finding their mark as they impacted on the demons' ships with lethal accuracy.

Or so, would someone think, lest they did not take into account the strong barriers of fel magic which have protected the ships of fel steel from the brunt of the damage; a few stray ships were not so lucky and became smouldering wrecks of metal, their carcasses drifting aimlessly in the void.

That was not to say the demons did not retaliate, as their armaments opened fire on the attackers with a vengeance, orbs of green magic and lightning flying towards the black ships as they hit shimmering barriers of light that stood strong, and though a few ships were destroyed in the process, many stood intact, a defiance to the demons' wicked notion of order and authority.

From several launching bays within the larger ships, multiple transport craft, each bearing dozens of soldiers thirsting for battle, launched from their resting places, flying towards the demons' command ship and a few others, reports from their confirming they were being held captive in said ships.

Onboard the _Aspect of Honour_ , a certain white-haired High Admiral grinned in feral satisfaction as he saw a few of the demons' ships be destroyed by the power of his fleet, unconsciously flexing his fingers in anticipation for the battle to come; it was only a detachment of the Ethereal Armada, but against a demon fleet of such a small size, it was more than enough.

As the space battle raged on with no clear victor, Kiritsugu decided it was time for the next phase of the battle plan.

"Bhelen," The High Admiral called out, bringing his attention to the avatar of the C.I in front of him as it flickered to life.

"You called for me, High Admiral?" The C.I asked.

"Are the boarding parties prepared?" Kiritsugu asked, eliciting a smile from the Dwarven hologram.

"Indeed they are," Bhelen happily replied, "The demons shall face the full brunt of our wrath like the monsters they are."

"Good," Kiritsugu nodded, "Then prepare a shuttle and an escort for me. I shall end the life of Wyndam myself, for those lost at Galathalas."

"For those lost," Bhelen acknowledged, before his avatar disappeared.

IIOII

To say that Shepard was utterly surprised by the sudden rumbling of the ship she was held in was an understatement.

Upon suffering impact upon impact, the numerous jars resting in the nearby shelves fell to the cold, hard metallic floor, shattering into a million pieces upon impact, spilling their contents – years of hard, unsavoury work, undone in less than a day.

"The Master will not be pleased in the slightest," The Humanoid-looking servant muttered, his face unreadable, before taking a nearby orb glowing an infernal green, demanding in a loud, guttural voice, "What in the name of Sargeras is going on!?"

" _T-The Ethereal Armada has arrived!_ " Both occupants of the room heard from the orb as it transmitted the recipient's shaky voice laced with fear, " _And Supreme Lord Admiral Kiritsugu is the one leading the fleet!_ "

At this, the Humanoid's face went red with anger, and he tossed the glass orb to the ground, the feeble object shattering into a million pieces.

"What's happening?" Shepard demanded, finally breaking her silence, "Who the hell's this High Admiral that's leading this Ethereal Armada?"

The Humanoid turned to face Shepard, looking at her as if her ignorance was incredibly ludicrous, despite the situation they were in.

"You do not know?" The Humanoid said, "You do not know of the legendary part-Dragonkin High Admiral that has slain many a demon by his own hands, the Armada that he himself leads into battle against enemies of the Empire such as we?"

The look Shepard gave him answered his question.

"How can you not know of the Ethereal Armada at all, or the Empire it serves?" The Humanoid asked, his face fixed in disbelief, "How can you-"

Whatever else he wanted to demand from Shepard was abruptly cut off, as his body became riddled with holes from several pulses of light that cut through the door.

As the Humanoid servant collapsed to the ground in a pool of his own greenish blood, the door opened to reveal a stubby dwarf of a man wearing – in Shepard's opinion – ornate armour decorated to a ridiculous degree that seemed unnecessary, holding a pistol in one hand and a huge hammer in another, the latter radiating some form of power.

Taking notice of Shepard restrained on the table, the Dwarvish man moved to take a set of keys from the dead Humanoid and unlocked every one of Shepard's restraints, allowing her freedom of movement as she moved off the table that served as her temporary prison.

"Thanks for the save," Shepard said to the Dwarf, before nearly collapsing to the ground, her head full of giddiness as she struggled to stand, only to fail, forcing her to rest her back against the table's support.

"Hold still, lassie," The Dwarf advised Shepard, before taking out a glass vial filled with a strange, thin liquid, and removing its seal and offering it to the Spectre, "You might want to drink it before we go on."

As Shepard's head still felt as if it was swimming in wine, she had to ask the Dwarf to administer it to her lips, immediately recoiling at the horridly bitter taste of the liquid as the first few drops touched her tongue, feeling as if she drank waste water out of the gutter.

Forcing herself to stomach the taste, she managed to drink the entire draught without outright spitting the offending liquid out of her mouth, and within moments, she realised she had regained control of her entire body, the absent giddiness being an added bonus to her speedy recovery that was aided by the bitter draught.

Once she was certain that she could stand without tumbling, the Dwarf who released her earlier pushed a battlehammer into her hands, the head easily twice the size of her head, yet the weapon felt strangely light for its weight despite its rather humongous size.

"Go back the way I came and evacuate from the ship immediately," The Dwarf suddenly ordered her, his grim expression brookering no argument, "Use the hammer I've given you to the fullest if you want to make it out of this alive."

"I can fight," Shepard countered, her voice filled with resolve, "I want to fight these bloody motherfuckers for what they've done to those who took good care of me back at that Forge World... whatever they called it."

"Galathalas," The Dwarf corrected her, "And are you sure you want to fight alongside us? There is the greatest possibility you may perish doing so."

Shepard simply stared back at the Dwarf, unflinching against his stubbornness as she hefted the hammer in her hands, whilst the Dwarf stared back at her in a scrutinising gaze, as if every move she made had a hidden motive that needed to be gauged.

Sensing her determination, the Dwarf relented with a heavy sigh, and said, "Your choice, lassie, but I'd be wary of the leader of this lot; he's not someone to trifle with, nor is he exactly the honourable type."

"I'll keep that in mind," Shepard said, before the duo went their separate ways.

IIOII

Finding the location of Wyndam Clemons, self-proclaimed leader of the band of demons who attacked the Forge World of Galathalas, was not easy in the slightest, for every corridor was swarming with demons fighting like wild animals, their enemy being the soldiers of the Thedosian Empire who came to avenge their fallen kinsmen.

It was utter chaos trying to navigate the ship, as every turn and corner had at least a dozen demons blocking the way forward, and as Shepard encountered every single one of these groups of demons, she had to use her enhanced strength and agility her new cybernetics granted her to maximise the brutal power of her hammer, as she had absolutely no training in using such a weapon, and sometimes rely on help from groups of Thedosian soldiers just to survive.

To make it worse, she stumbled upon a very large group of demons blocking a large doorway, presumably leading to where their master was at, with nothing but her hammer.

She knew she could not kill all the demons before her with nothing but her hammer, so she tried to call on her power of biotics borne of Element Zero exposure, focusing her mind to gathering dark energy on her hand-

None came forth, leaving her at the mercy of her enemies as she realised too late her biotic amplifications had been destroyed in her crash on Galathalas, along with her nervous system before her body was rebuilt.

But she was a soldier, and she would not die a coward.

Steeling herself for her inevitable fate, she charged forth and met the demons head on, defiantly smashing demons' limbs and brains into mush, the sheer power of her hammer crushing their bones and flesh.

They had begun surrounding her in a concerted attempt to kill her, leaving her no way out.

Lacking any adequate protection against their magic, she had to use all of her willpower not to scream in pain as a fel fireball landed on her arm, burning her tunic and flesh, the smell of cooked meat filling the air.

One of the demons, the same type of Humanoid who guarded her prison cell earlier before she was hauled off to the torture chamber, was about to claim her life as it raised its strangely sculpted weapon above her, ready to plunge it into her heart.

Shepard closed her eyes, bracing herself.

But the finishing blow never came, as said Humanoid fell to the ground and dropped his weapon, three golden-glowing arrows impaling its face. However, it still had the strength to raise its weapon, but at that moment, its brain decided that it was dead, and its body collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Many other demons soon followed, either impaled by the same glowing arrows or spears that awakened great pain in their senses, including the one who nearly ended her life.

As the Thedosians charged onward, one of them momentarily stopped in his tracks to inspect Shepard's terrible burn, which caused her excruciating pain as she hissed when the man – an Elven man wearing a tabard bearing the insignia of two swords crossed over a kiteshield – prodded it with his gloved hand.

"Shit! That hurts!" Shepard yelled, the volume of her voice causing him to wince due to his sensitive ears.

"Be still, my friend," The Elf advised Shepard in a song-like voice, gently placing both his gauntleted hands on where Shepard's flesh was burnt, "Allow me to administer aid to your wounds."

Unsure what the Elf was even doing, Shepard nonetheless let him perform his work.

" _By the Grace of Yggdrasil, may your wounds be healed_ ," Shepard heard the Elf mutter, the language alien to her ears, " _And may your body be remade anew._ "

Before her very eyes, the same forest green light shone forth from his hands, and as she watched on, her burnt flesh had begun to mend itself, her skin and flesh beginning to regenerate itself until no trace of the burn remained.

Her jaw dropping in surprise elicited a slight, muted chuckle from the Elf who healed her as he helped her stand up from where she lay, his earlier smile fading in favour of a grim expression.

"Thanks for the help," Shepard said to the Elf, "But just curious, what's that insignia?"

Upon seeing where Shepard was pointing to, the Elf's face lit up in recognition.

"Ah, that would be the symbol of my order, the Blademasters of Andarath," The Elf explained, "But we cannot tarry; we have a demon to kill."

"My thoughts exactly," Shepard replied.

IIOII

Wyndam cursed whatever doomed he and his minions to death at the hands of the Thedosians, whether it be the Gods those Thedosians worshipped, or the ghosts of the long-deceased Titans, or even his luck, for that matter, as more of his ships than Thedosian were being boarded then subsequently destroyed after liberating the prisoners held within.

 _How in the seven hells have I deserved this fate?_ Wyndam thought to himself in unadulterated anger, _That attack on Galathalas should have been quick enough to allow us enough time to escape from our potential pursuers. Though I must give them credit, the Ethereal Armada is faster at locating its prey than I gave them credit for._

Now his once-mighty fleet was reduced to less than half its number, all in the span of less than half an hour, and his would-be guinea pigs were being released from their cells and armed to take revenge against their captors, with his minions being annihilated at an alarming speed.

Soon, it would be his turn, and he could hear the loud, savage war cries of the Thedosian warriors nearing his position – he was willing to bet there were Avvar Beasthunters among their ranks – nearing his location.

His fears were soon realised when a set of doors – the only set of doors – leading into the command deck that acted as his refuge began buckling under tremendous pressure, two sets of hands forcibly pulling them apart to reveal an entire troop of warriors, who immediately charged forth towards their intended target: the perpetrator of the daring attack on Galathalas.

Wyndam's honour guard, consisting of the most elite of demons in his army – a few felguards, succubi, and tall giants burning in felfire, met the Thedosians head-on, a bloody melee soon ensuing as blood drenched the floor and demons began to die.

Among the attackers, Wyndam could make out one figure he recognised from the brief time he met her – though he never gotten her name – killing a score of demons with nothing but linen clothing and a hammer in hand, her red hair easy to recognise.

As the two briefly locked gazes with each other, Wyndam nearly lost his head to a swing of Shepard's hammer, but barely erected a felfire barrier in time, the foul green barrier shimmering under the force from the battlehammer as it deflected the weapon.

"For a bastard responsible for so many deaths, you're surprisingly hard to get to," Shepard commented, hefting her hammer for another strike.

Curling his lips in barely concealed anger, Wyndam shouted in defiance, "I am not meant to die here like this! I was supposed to conquer the cosmos and bring many a civilisation to heel under my dominion!"

"Well your fucking conquest has officially come to an end, Wyndam!" Shepard retorted, then charged the fel warlock, only to have her hammer once again bounce off the barrier Wyndam conjured, causing her to lose balance.

As Wyndam was about to retaliate, two other Thedosians flanked him from both sides, hacking at his barrier to no effect as their weapons were also deflected by it.

Wyndam then extended a hand, and gathering his power, fired a powerful lance of felfire into the chest of one of his attackers, killing him instantly with a fist-sized hole to the chest. His comrade, determined to avenge him, swung his axe at Wyndam's leg, but barely managed to scrape his armour.

As if to defy him the opportunity, Wyndam lashed out a hand and out came a huge wave of felfire that washed over the other attacker's form, instantly bypassing his shielding and consuming his form, loud screams coming out of his mouth as he turned to ash.

Another Thedosian, dressed in heavy armour and armed with a huge sword, cast an arc of lightning at Wyndam's barrier, weakening it enough to leave the fel warlock vulnerable to attack.

To prove that Wyndam was indeed vulnerable, one of the Thedosians who attacked him earlier took the opportunity to slice the warlock's leg, but instead of red blood seeping from the flesh wound, felfire began to ooze out of it.

In anger and irritation, Wyndam cast a lance of felfire that immediately killed the culprit, creating a huge hole in his chest as he collapsed to the ground, but the momentary distraction was enough for the other Thedosian and Shepard to avenge him; the latter struck Wyndam's right arm with a hammer, crushing the bones within, while Shepard smashed his kneecap, causing him to lose balance as he ungracefully fell to the cold floor.

"No!" Wyndam gasped, trying to crawl away from his executors in vain, "I cannot die here! Not when I-"

He was abruptly cut off when Shepard struck Wyndam's head with her battlehammer, crushing both skull and brain within as his head was literally reduced to nothing more than a pile of guts and bone.

"Yeah, fuck you, you bastard," Said Shepard, uncaring about the gore splattered over her clothes.

As the last of the demons were slaughtered by the Thedosians, all eyes turned to face Shepard, the woman who had avenged the death of many by killing the leader of the band of demons, Wyndam Clemons, her hammer and clothing still drenched in gore.

Noticing all the attention she was gaining from those present, Shepard could only awkwardly say, "Hey guys, how's it going?"

IIOII

In another part of the galaxy, an aged man dressed in a black and white tuxedo was not happy in the slightest, brooding over his thoughts as he took a puff of smoke from his freshly-lit cigarette which did not calm him in the slightest.

For three whole days, his subordinates had searched high and low in every corner of the galaxy for the remains of Commander Alexandria Shepard, after finding out that no trace of her body, not even her helmet were found at the site where the _Normandy SR-2_ had crashed, with every search proving fruitless.

As he took a sip from a glass of whiskey, he set it down of the armrest of his chair, then proceeded to open a communications channel which connected to one of his most promising subordinates.

A screen flickered to life, revealing the image of a fairly attractive woman dressed in a black and white bodysuit that hugged her figure nicely, accentuating every curve of her feminine body. Bright, piercing blue orbs complemented her square jaw and pale skin, adding to her seductive beauty in many ways.

" _You called me, Sir?_ " The woman asked the man on the other side of the comms channel.

"Ms. Lawson, as the search for Shepard is still unsuccessful, I must redirect your efforts to a new mission for now," The man explained, "You will be in command of a crew onboard the new ship meant for Shepard in order to better facilitate your efforts."

The woman nodded, "I understand Sir, but for what kind of mission, might I ask?"

"Keep an eye out for Collector activity," The man told her, just as he took another sip of his whiskey, "We can't allow them to raid any more Human settlements throughout the galaxy."

" _Understood Sir. Lawson out._ "

 **A/N: It took me a while to get this done, as I had to revise this chapter quite a few times for any errors in grammar and whether I put the story's plot together properly or not, but it is done.**

 **It was particularly hard thinking on how the demons of the Burning Legion would react to the Thedosians, given that they are arrogant bastards and that – spoiler alert – I planned to have the demons not react well to their arrival, so in the end I tried to portray their character as best as I could, though you can tell me if I succeeded or not.**

 **Tonight, I will be flying to Japan for a two-week holiday, and hopefully, by the time I come back, I will have set the groundwork for a new chapter.**

 **So Ebanu8 will be back, and the Empire shall gain more glory!**

 **Stay strong!**


	4. New Beginnings

**A/N: I have returned from Japan! And, as I have promised, here's another chapter!**

 **Also, I have to apologise for the slight delay as I had entered a momemtary writer's block and was busy indulging myself in Maplestory,** **and** **I'm currently studying for one of my most important exams of the year, so updates will be infrequent.**

 **For those who were waiting for an update, I thank you for your patience, and please enjoy reading.**

 **CrazedGammaMan** **1721:** That will be heavily affected by my busy schedule, but I'll nonetheless try.

 **A** **kshka:** Will do, though as I said, updates will be infrequent.

 **Chapter two: New Beginnings**

" _The moment I laid eyes on Shepard, I knew she was a soldier, forged in the crucible of battle. I knew for certain, she could become one of the greatest leaders the Empire could ever have in its service._ " _\- Emperor Amarthathor Sardothien, regarding Alexandria Shepard._

" _The moment I saw him, I figured he was_ _not the average, typically arrogant noble I'd see governing an Empire._ " - _General Alexandria Shepard, regarding Emperor Amarthathor Sardothien._

In the corridors of the _Aspect of Honour_ , the Ethereal Armada's flagship, a certain Human Spectre was being escorted by two soldiers towards the mess hall – or what her hosts called a dining chamber – with one flanking each side, each soldier garbed in black armour bearing sigils and glowing enchantments, many of the metal plates sculpted to resemble Draconian features. Over their armour they wore black surcoats, the insignia of twin swords wreathed in flames on black visible to her eyes.

Looking at her surroundings, she saw that every part of the ship's interior was a perfect blend between intricate ornamentation and enduring pragmatism; large pillars of metal decorated with motifs of dragons and people of other races supported the ceilings, ornate, golden lamps bearing turquoise-glowing crystals that illuminated her environment. Around her, huge, ash grey banners, all bearing two insignias – one, a laurel-wreathed dragon breathing fire on a backdrop of pitch black, the other, twin swords wreathed in flames, words inscribed in an alien script beneath them; the former was the standard of the Eternal Dragon, the insignia of the Thedosian Empire, the latter was the insignia of the Ethereal Armada, by far the most decorated and feared navy in the whole known galaxy.

As she walked along the winding corridors of the massive ship she was in, she could see ranks upon ranks of soldiers of different races, all garbed in ornate armour that gleamed in the ship's lighting, training rigorously in the arts of war under the supervision of their assigned trainers, their voices echoing throughout the hallway.

Shepard had absolutely no idea as to whether she should marvel at the luxuries inside a military ship such as this, or hold disdain for it; the only luxury she ever had that was part of her ship was her personal fish tank. Even so, it never bore any of the ornamentation this ship had.

Thankfully, their travel time was cut down by using miniature portals that acted as doorways to other sections of the ship – each a swirling vortex of azure mana – given the sheer size of the behemoth of a ship.

The first time she travelled through one of the portals, however, she had barely kept herself from emptying her stomach on the immaculate stone floor, and causing a mess that would elicit grumbles from the cleaning crew.

She also had to wonder just why did this ship have a floor made of different types of stone, which included shining tiles of marble bearing gold laid in intricate patterns. She felt it was far too much luxury incorporated into this one ship, and a military ship constantly on the front lines of war, to top it off.

"Hey, mind if I ask you something?" She asked one of her escorts.

"What is it you wish to know, _ma falon_?" The taller of her escorts said, his voice soft and lilting.

"Why does your ship have so much stuff that's clearly meant for decoration in houses? I mean, isn't it so damn _expensive_ to get all this gold and marble and stuff?" Shepard asked, her tone incredulous and exasperated.

Her direct question elicited hearty chuckles from both of her escorts, the one with the lilting accent answering, "It is simply part of our way of doing things, my lady. Even so, we do not overemphasize on aestheticism, for we still wish for our machines of war to remain durable and sturdy."

"Yeah," She drawled, somewhat unbelieving, "I mean, I'm just not used to putting stuff on stuff. This is a ship, not a castle, for God's sake."

"We get yer meaning, lassie," The shorter of the escorts said, his voice carrying the same accent as Shepard's, "But how's about we get our fill? I bet ye haven't gotten yer fill yet, eh?"

True enough, Shepard could feel her stomach rumbling, since she had no chance to eat any decent meals from when she had awoken after her treatment on Galathalas.

The three of them eventually reached a set of ornate doors depicting a farmer harvesting a variety of crops, which opened to reveal the most spacious dining hall Shepard set foot in, hordes of Guardsmen - soldiers of the Empire - queueing for their meals at several counters scattered across the many floors of the dining chamber.

Having been taken aback by the sheer size of the dining chamber, she nearly did not notice the taller escort tapping her shoulder to gain her attention. Upon turning to face him, the tall guard told the Spectre, "We will be leaving you in here for as long as you need, but once you are done, please find us at the entrance. Supreme Lord Admiral Kiritsugu wishes to talk to you as soon as you are able."

Before she could inquire as to who was this Supreme Lord Admiral, her two guards had already disappeared among the avalanche of black armoured soldiers clamouring for their meal, leaving her to grab hers alone.

Lunch was a simple affair of rice, sausage, some cabbage salad, and beer that bore a strong alcoholic scent that she could smell in the air.

When she moved to sit down at the nearest table with a seat available, she felt that this simple lunch was more of a feast; soldiers helped themselves to huge helpings of sumptuous-looking food, and drank large glass tankards of beer, with some of their portions surpassing what even their fellow commrades were eating, leaving Shepard rather awestruck.

Tucking into her food, she found that the food tasted marvellous; it was almost as if she were feasting in a banquet hall fit for kings, cooked by only the best of chefs in the whole galaxy.

When she drank her beer, it immediately put every other drink she had to shame; despite not being a heavy drinker, she found this frothy, golden beer much stronger than even ryncol - a spirit favoured amongst Krogan, almost to the point of making her tipsy. With her new cybernetic implants metabolising the alcohol in her system, she had no worry about getting into an early drunken stupor.

Once she finished her sumptuous meal, she met her escorts at the entrance and allowed them to lead her towards the war council room, where the guards said that their Supreme Lord Admiral would meet her in person.

Having traversed the winding corridors and at least two more portals, she finally reached another set of ornately-crafted sliding doors, this time bearing engravings of two axe-wielding warriors in armour who stood in eternal vigilance, almost as if they were guarding the entrance to the room within from unwanted outsiders.

"We will have to leave you here, my lady," The taller guard informed Shepard, bowing slightly at the waist, "Our duties call us elsewhere."

Nodding in acknowledgement as the guards left, she proceeded to walk inside the War Room, where the esteemed Supreme Lord Admiral of the Ethereal Armada was awaiting her.

Allowing the ornate doors to part to grant her passage, she saw a relatively spacious room – slightly more so than the command deck of the _Normandy –_ dominated by a large circular table with what she recognised as a holo-projector, said table made of a dark, lacquered wood that gave a glossy glow in the bright light provided by the crystal lamp overhead.

The holo-projector was currently operated by a lone individual, and Shepard knew she faced a man hardened by war, despite his looks.

The man before her was an Elf – or at least looked the part, to his close friends – who wore the same type of immaculate, ornate armour as the ship's crew, albeit resembling the design of ancient samurai armour, with several metal plates layered on top of one another. Over it, a fur-crowned, japanese-styled surcoat was worn over his shoulders. His skin was exceptionally fair, almost nearing the colour of white, his face as smooth as silk, a greek nose and thin, pale lips complementing his piercing amber eyes that sat against a backdrop of black. His silken-smooth, albino hair, tied in a french braid that dropped past his shoulders.

His face was marred by a few scars – one extending horizontally over his nose, two others in the shape of claw marks gracing his left cheek. On the right side of his face, black tribal markings ran across it, and the Spectre could feel some sort of power emanating from them.

Though Shepard was not interested in the Elf before her, she had to admit he was _hot_.

The Elf turned to face Shepard, and asked in a melodious, strangely Japanese-accented voice, "Are you the woman who has slain Wyndam Clemons?"

Momentarily surprised by the Elf's accent, she decided to shake it off and answered, "Yeah, I'm the one who killed the bastard."

Clasping his hand over his shoulder, he bowed slightly at the waist, and said, "Strength through honour, my lady. I am Kiritsugu Sardothien, Supreme Lord Admiral of the Ethereal Armada in service to the Thedosian Empire. How fare you?"

Extending a hand, Shepard said, "Commander Alexandria Shepard, N7 Marine and Spectre in service to the Systems Alliance and by extension, the Citadel Council."

Rather than shake her hand, however, Kiritsugu grasped her hand with gentle, calloused fingers, and kissed her knuckles, causing her to blush slightly at the gentlemanly action.

"It is an honour to meet you, Commander Shepard," Kiritsugu said, his voice soft and lilting, yet bearing an underlying core of steel, "But I have never heard of this 'Citadel Council', nor have I heard of this 'Systems Alliance' anywhere in the cosmos. Could it be a separate faction of Humans, perhaps?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow at that statement; how did they not know of the Citadel Council? Were they perhaps a group of races new to the galactic stage, or were they too focused on their current wars with the Burning Legion to notice them at all? Shepard believed it to be the latter, given the recent attack on Galathalas.

Making sure he was not confused, Shepard decided to explain everything about the Systems Alliance and the Citadel Council, from their history, to the technology they employed, and even the things they were notorious for; branding evidence of threats to galactic security as nothing more than purely fabricated nonsense, sweeping unfavourable facts under the rug and impeding investigations with large amounts of bureaucracy and red tape.

The last fact seemed to visibly appal the Elven Admiral, who spat to the side in disgust, "These Councilors claim to be wise and honourable? I wonder how their civilisation has lasted as long as you have described it to have."

"Can't disagree with you there, but that's how they've stayed in power for so long, and no one has really done a thing about it, not that they want to," Shepard said, remembering her own experiences with the Councilors' arrogance and stubbornness, "But why don't you tell me more about this Empire of yours? I didn't get much of a gist of it during my stay on... what's that place called again?"

"Galathalas," Kiritsugu corrected, "And over five millennia ago, the Thedosian Empire was formed by the five races of Thedas after surviving a catastrophe that nearly wiped us out. They were the Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Qunari, Orcs, and the Dragonkin."

"Dragons?" Shepard wondered, "You have Dragons in the Empire?"

Kiritsugu nodded, and said, "We prefer to call ourselves Dragonkin. I myself have descended from a union between Dragonkin and Elf."

"But you don't look draconian," Shepard pointed out, "At least, you don't look like you've got draconian physical features."

Kiritsugu merely smiled, and a black mist shrouded his person. Upon dissipating, it revealed a bi-pedal draconian being with onyx-coloured scales, its hands and legs bearing sharp fangs that looked as if they could claw through the toughest of armour. Beneath its fur-lined mantle, a tail extended beneath it, covered in the same scales as the rest of the draconian's body.

 _His hands and legs,_ Shepard noted, as the armour the draconian being wore was exactly the same as what Kiritsugu wore, meaning that the Draconian being before her _was_ Kiritsugu.

"Surprised?" The part-Elven Admiral asked, his voice more serpentine and imposing in his draconian form.

"A lot," Shepard said bluntly, "But at the same time, you look so damn cool."

The blunt answer elicited a few chuckles from the draconian being, who immediately shifted back into his Elven form in a showy display of swirling black mist, revealing the fair-skinned Elven Admiral just as he was prior to his transformation.

"Few would ever dare compliment a Dragonkin's true, fearsome form without fear," Kiritsugu commented, a wry smile adorning his face, "But I digress, for there is so much you must know about the Empire and its allies."

"So where do we continue?" Shepard asked, eager for the continued history lesson."

Kiritsugu nodded, moving to pour a cup of tea for each of them, a mellow, sweet fragrance filling the entire room in mere seconds, "Take a seat, my lady, and indulge yourself in this fine Elven tea as you listen, for it shall be a long session of debate."

"Seriously? I'm not exactly royalty, mind you, so you don't have to call me 'my lady'," Shepard clarified, "You can just call me Shepard, for simplicity's sake."

Kiritsugu merely smiled, "It is merely common courtesy for us men to address women as such, my lady."

Shepard groaned slightly, rolling her eyes.

IIOII

The Imperial Capital of Thedas had long been a planet of much cultural and historical significance to the Thedosian Empire; long has it been credited and remembered as the cradle of Thedosian Civilisation and its last holdout during the grim chaos of the Eternal War, with many monuments and memorials to commemorate the costly sacrifice of many.

It was also home to many architectural wonders constructed and still enduring over the ages, the most prominent of them being the Empyrean Palace, the stronghold of Thedosian Civilisation and home of the most powerful individual in the Empire, the Emperor himself.

Huge walls and towers of stone – a mixture of contrasting ebony and silver – formed a massive, intimidating, and wonderfully appealing structure, the tiled roofs a gleaming cerulean that glittered in the sunlight and moonlight. Surrounding the palace were an array of gardens boasting wide varieties of flora and fauna, lifelike statues and intricate fountains of cream-coloured marble dotting the landscape like flowers on a plot of soil, and a double set of high walls that would repel any invader foolhardy enough to test its defensive capabilities.

Within the halls of the Empyrean Palace, under its ebony-silver archs, a snow white-haired Elf of both Elven and Dragonkin descent brooded on his throne of obsidian and gold, clean-cut stones of emerald and ruby embedded on each of its sides, as he contemplated on the recent surge of demon attacks on the lands of the Galactic Triumvirate – a political union between the Thedosian Empire, Korprulu Alliance, and Azerothian Coalition – and the fact that Galathalas, one of the most secure worlds of the Empire, was nearly overwhelmed to such an attack.

This had begun to worry him, for the demons of the Burning Legion were beginning to display a resilience and tenacity never shown before, with the Triumvirate's forces becoming increasingly hard-pressed to defend its territories and protect their people.

Inspecting a written report on white paper given to him by his Senaschal, Anrand Garmi, a Dwarf commoner elevated to his position through the assistance he rendered to the Emperor for the past three centuries, his eyes settled on the name of the slayer of Wyndam Clemons, Alexandria Shepard, apparently a Human woman who was receiving treatment at one of the Healing Houses on the Forge World of Galathalas before the fateful invasion.

"Alexandria Shepard," The 'Elf' muttered, putting a gloved finger on his chin, "It seems more of a Terran name than one from the Empire or the Coalition. Are you certain she is the one who has slain the Treacherous Snake?"

"I am certain, Emperor Amarthathor," Anrand said, "She is the one."

Amarthathor Sardothien, Third Emperor of the Thedosian Empire, set down the paper on his desk of black-coloured stone, and then said, "Send an order to High Admiral Kiritsugu. Tell him I wish to meet this Alexandria Shepard in person."

"Your will be done," Anrand intoned, before he left to perform his duty.

IIOII

It was with utter amazement and shock that Shepard felt upon laying eyes on the five huge behemoths of stations orbiting the planet of Thedas; humongous, circular structures of gleaming onyx and silver, bearing crystal pylons orbiting every pinnacle of each building. The planet itself was surrounded by a huge, thick ring of metal, connected to the earth by three great towers.

Guarding the capital of the Empire itself – and the five giant stations by extension – was a veritable _swarm_ of black ships, all built with the same blend of functionality and aestheticism as the _Aspect of Honour._ At the centre of the entire formation of black ships was a behemoth, a true behemoth, shaped like a floating shield with a length measuring about a hundred and four kilometres, a width of about sixty kilometres, and a height of no less than twenty kilometres; it was the flagship of the Thedosian Astral Navy and pride of the Empire, the _Eternal Guardian._

As she was watching from the command deck, which gave her an optimal view of Thedas, Kiritsugu was there beside her, a prideful smile gracing his lips at the sight of his people's homeworld.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Kiritsugu said, never forgetting the emerald isles of plenty, surrounded by oceans of sapphire blue, or the pinnacles of engineering visible before them now.

"Damn, I've seen some huge stations, but this is so new. I mean, how do you guys build stations a _hundred kilometres in length_?" Shepard questioned, not believing the sheer scale of the constructs – which Kiritsugu was more than happy to inform her about – orbiting the planet.

"I will have to answer that question later," Kiritsugu said, feeling slightly disappointed, "Remember our appointment with the Emperor."

Having received an explicit order from Amarthathor himself two hours prior, Kiritsugu ordered the crew of his Armada's flagship to immediately initiate a portal jump to the homeworld, allowing Shepard to experience the Thedosians' method of interstellar travel.

The whole experience was incredibly unpleasant for Shepard, as she had to fight to keep herself from emptying her recent meal onto the polished stone floor, due to her body experiencing waves of gravitational forces churning her insides like milk.

Sadly, she was not successful in preventing herself from vomiting on the floor, but rather than take offence, Kiritsugu gave Shepard a potion that would help the Spectre keep her food down for the entire journey, and simply ordered for a soldier to arrive with a mop and bucket to clean the mess.

A beep loud enough for the two of them to hear had sounded, the source being a steel grey holographic wrist-mounted device on Kiritsugu's left forearm as he brought it close enough to his face.

" _Welcome back, Supreme Lord Admiral Kiritsugu,_ " A French-accented voice greeted from the Admiral's device, " _What brings you to the Heart of the Empire?_ "

"I am here by order of Emperor Amarthathor to bring to him a woman who has slain Wyndam Clemons," The High Admiral stated, "As such, I request for transport to the Empyrean Palace."

" _Of course, High Admiral. We shall dispatch an Icefox Transport immediately,_ " Said the voice before she cut the connection.

"Just out of curiosity, what's that device on your arm?" Shepard asked the High Admiral, her interest having been piqued by his wrist-mounted device, which reminded her of the omni-tools that were commonly used in her galaxy.

"This? It is a Multi-tool, capable of performing multiple functions for both civilian and military purposes," Kiritsugu explained as he typed several buttons on his holographic device, "If you are curious, this is the fifth generation of such devices since their first creation over four millennium ago."

Observing the wrist-mounted device on the Supreme Lord Admiral's left wrist, she found it had much more intricate designs and motifs in its holographic projection, compared to the plain orange omni-tools she so frequently used as a soldier of the Systems Alliance.

Again, she had to wonder about the Thedosians' obsession with intricate designs in almost every aspect of their lives, something that was far beyond her comprehension.

"Our transport has arrived, my lady Shepard," Kiritsugu informed her, "I prefer to not keep the Emperor waiting."

Wordlessly, she followed Kiritsugu as he led him into the Icefox Transport that docked in the _Aspect of Honour's_ hangar bay that usually housed swarms of fighter craft for the event of a space battle, unceasingly amazed by the sheer monstrous size of the ship she was in as she walked along the incredibly long corridors, once again fighting to keep herself from emptying her stomach's contents on the floor as the duo used a few miniature portals to cut down their travel time.

Upon reaching the hangar bay, where their Icefox Transport would be waiting for them, she became as stiff as a statue upon laying eyes on the transport craft.

The transport was at least twice as large as a Kodiak shuttle, but that was not the reason she froze in her tracks; what truly caused her to so such, was its constituent material.

Discounting the metallic layer that made up the basic skeleton – and one layer – of the craft's structure, the outer layer was half-composed of near-transparent ice that coated the entire transport, save the rear, with the prow shaped to resemble a sinister fox, which earned the transport its name.

"What the hell?" Shepard could not help but blurt out, "Who the hell uses _ice_ to make ships, or even shuttles?"

"For your information, that is no ordinary ice you see there, my lady," Kiritsugu stated, smiling at the stunned reaction Shepard had displayed, "That is Ghalrim, an ice crafted from magic to become stronger than ordinary steel by at least tenfold."

Shepard wanted to ask just how could ice be stronger than steel, then she remembered that this was not her galaxy, and so, it did not follow the same rules her galaxy did, though that did not mean she was not allowed to ask more questions to satiate her curiosity.

"Just asking, you guys use a lot of water to make this ice, right?" Shepard asked, as she touched the ice covering the transport; immediately, she felt it was cold, but at the same time, to her surprise, it was not melting at all, despite it probably having been exposed to the radiation of nearby stars.

"A lot of fresh water is needed to craft Ghalrim, especially in large amounts," Kiritsugu explained as he typed in a few buttons on a panel on the back of the transport to open the backdoor, "The manufacturing method is a secret, if you must know."

"I didn't even ask for it in the first place," Shepard muttered, before she boarded the transport en route for the Imperial Palace.

IIOII

The streets of Thedas were bustling with activity, as hordes of Thedosians queued at stores of all kind, be they blacksmiths, gunsmiths, or simply general stores - whose owners have a little of everything for sale to cater to just about any customer coming their way.

Yet, despite the prevailing orderly chaos in the market districts, it was not very hard to manoeuvrer the stone-paved streets of the various parts of the city home to the Empyrean Palace, for many kept lining up in an orderly manner when lining up to purchase their goods, as if they did not want to cause much trouble for other commuters.

Patrolling the streets of the various districts were a mixture of different types of soldiers, from Steelbowmen to the basic Men-at-arms, and some of the Empireguard, ebony-gold-clad Knights wielding longbows powered by magic and double-bladed axes no ordinary man could wield; some walked along the streets on foot, their metal boots thumping on the floor with every step, while others trod at a slow pace on their Rachni mounts, all garbed in ornate silver armour with the headpiece moulded into the head of a snarling dragon.

All of this, Shepard could gleam from her seat onboard the Icefox Transport as it began its descent towards the Empyrean Palace, and Shepard was immediately awestruck by the sheer size and apparent impenetrable defences it boasted, despite the ornamentation and intricate carvings she could see on the stones.

Built on top of a mountain, the Empyrean Palace not only served as a seat of power and home of the Thedosian government, it was also a veritable fortress, its three sets of ebony-silver walls and towers built with a thick underlayer of Soulsteel, one of the most durable metals used in the Empire, and armed with rows upon rows of anti-aircraft and orbital weaponry, manned by thousands of royal guards and Knights who guard the Palace day and night.

And though Shepard could not see many guards on the walls and within the Palace grounds, her instincts told her that there were scores more lying in wait as they hid from sight, their stealth capabilities keeping them from being seen normally by ordinary eyes.

Stepping down from the transport as Kiritsugu offered a hand – which she politely declined, she saw a row of Empireguard Knights standing at attention with longbows in hand, who immediately thumped their chests with clenched fists upon seeing Kiritsugu.

"Welcome back, Supreme Lord Admiral," One of the taller Knights, a dark-skinned Elf, said, "We trust you have brought the slayer of Wyndam Clemons?"

"I have brought her as promised, my fellow Knights," Kiritsugu affirmed, "We need not an escort to the inner halls of the Imperial Palace, so you may return to your duties."

Wordlessly, the Knights saluted before moved back to their posts, and the duo were free to make their way towards the throne room.

Along the way, Shepard could see that nearly every part of the Palace's architecture was dominated by an ebony-silver colour scheme, from the pillars, to the overhead archs, and even the flooring, but none of it was achieved through the usage of paint, instead the colour scheme was derived from the stones' natural colour.

And along the walls and pillars of the Palace's structure, turquoise-glowing runes dotted the architecture, the script completely alien to her knowledge of various Human written scripts for the various languages her kind practiced.

Decorating the Palace's interior was exquisitely-crafted furniture that looked rather expensive to Shepard's eyes; gold-lined, silken red carpets laid on the floor, vases and other pottery housing precious-looking flowers within their boughs, and pelts of fur, all harvested from various manners of wild beast lurking in the wilds preserved on various garden worlds located across the Empire.

Eventually, the two of them reached a set of imposingly large ebony doors lined with gold, carvings of a dragon visible on both doors. Before them, a pair of Knights standing guard nodded at the arrival of Kiritsugu and their new guest, and opened the doors for them.

As they parted, Shepard was treated to a full view of the throne room, where she could see a white-haired, fair-skinned Elf seated on an ornate throne of obsidian studded with gems of various typed, currently engaged in what seemed like a heated discussion with four others, the throne itself elevated barely a foot higher from the stone floor. Great statues of the three late Emperors could be seen situated near the walls, all depicting them wearing armour and doing heroic poses. Around them, several men and women of respectable status – as noted by their expensive-looking, exquisite clothing – who were waiting expectantly, most likely waiting impatiently to catch a glimpse of the woman heralded for slaying a bane of the Empire.

The Elf on the throne had caught Shepard's eye, and no matter how much she tried to look away, she could not do so at the sight of the handsome, kingly figure before her. His clothing was rich yet simple – a plain white tunic, a pair of dark brown trousers, and a black, gold-trimmed surcoat worn over his tunic and stopping just below his knees. Emblazoned on the surcoat was the laurel-wreathed dragon, shining gems and silver thread forming the insignia's shape. His features were that of a veteran warrior and a shrewd politician, grim and resolute, yet filled with wisdom and eloquence, memories of both immense happiness and great sadness written on his amber eyes. Like Kiritsugu, he possessed the same black tribal markings that ran along his right arm and face.

On the Elf's head rested a dragon-winged golden crown, a glistening diamond embedded in the area just above his forehead.

Looking at the Elf before her, she truly felt she was in the presence of a king; not like the pretentious kings and queens who only hungered for power and wealth, but a king-no, an _Emperor_ with a wealth on knowledge and a power of command over his subjects.

Upon realising that she was staring at the Elf's face, she tried to turn away to hide her embarrassment that came in the form of reddening cheeks.

"We must bring retribution to these accursed demons for what they have done to Galathalas! Blood for blood!" A green-skinned Humanoid said, who was dressed in spiked armour with a white bear pelt draped on his head across his back. He was about seven feet tall, taller than the average Human being, whose black hair was tied in a few long braids.

"And we shall, Lord Inquisitor Varkgorim," The Elf on the throne said, his voice soft and lilting, his face calm and collected, but his eyes burned with restrained anger, "But I will not charge blindly into the fray unless we can truly determine the cause of the recent emboldening of the demons to attack our lands so freely."

"It is as Emperor Amarthathor says," The shorter of all five affirmed, who was garbed in form-fitting light armour and a violet cloak, his voice carrying the same accent as Shepard did, "And I regret to say my spies' efforts to determine this have been fruitless."

"Pashara! And to think the Burning Legion was never to rise again after the death of Sargeras!" A tall, grey-skinned woman cursed, her hair a silvery white, horns jutting out of her hairline. Her attire consisted of modest armour – a compromise between mobility and protection – worn over a crimson robe, with an indigo cloak draped over her shoulders. In her hands was a staff of obsidian metal, the tip shaped to house a crystal foci.

"Let us not be too hasty," A soft and melodious, yet hardened voice spoke up, the owner being a Human garbed in gold-encrusted, silver armour and an azure blue cloak, a tabard of the same colour, bearing the insignia of what looked like a Christian cross with a shield behind it, "Though the demons' arrogance is not unknown to us, or any in the Galactic Triumvirate, we should still tread with caution, for they still possess the capabilities to infiltrate our ranks if we let down our guard."

As the discussion raged on, and the nobles caught eye of Shepard's plainly-clothed figure, they began trading whispers among themselves, taking care to keep their whispers soft enough to not disrupt the raging debate between the Emperor and his advisors. Some regarded her with suspicion, thinking the outsider before them unable to slay even the weakest of demons, while others wondered if she would make a great general of the Empire.

Looking at the Human male who debated with the Emperor's inner circle, she was suddenly reminded of her younger brother, one of the few Shepard cherished more than anyone in the galaxy; piercing blue eyes, chiselled facial features consisting of a square jaw and a pointed nose, some of those features resembled that of her younger brother, Damien, though he was quite tall, at a towering eight feet in height, and he looked more like one of the nobles from the medieval fantasy films she used to watch.

She then recalled the raid on her original home of Mindior, conducted by Batarian slavers searching for civilians to capture and sell at their slave markets. She watched helplessly as her father was murdered, her brother taken away as he screamed and writhed in their grasp. All the while, she and her mother were unable to help, as the former hid underneath a bed to escape their clutches, and the latter having sustained an injury and subsequently feigned death, knowing she was no use to them dead or captured.

"...Shepard? My lady Shepard?"

She was brought out of her thoughts by Kiritsugu's concerned voice calling to her, though it was soft enough that only she could hear it.

"Are you well, my lady Shepard?" She could hear the High Admiral ask, "You look as if you have seen a specter."

"N-No, it's nothing," Shepard said, not willing to discuss about the memories of her younger brother.

Though Kiritsugu could see that she was lying, he decided not to pry any further, and left it at that.

"With this, the war council is adjourned," The Emperor said, alerting the two to the end of the meeting they had, "And I see that you have arrived, my cousin."

"I have, Amarthathor," Kiritsugu replied, bowing slightly at the waist, "And this is the woman who has slain Wyndam Clemons, as you have heard."

"Commander Alexandria Shepard, yes?" Amarthathor asked, to which Shepard nodded, "Step forward."

Shepard did not feel comfortable, subjecting herself to the scrutinising glare of a noble, for her people's history was fraught with nobles of ancient Earth oppressing the common people for their own personal amusement, but the two words, no matter how simple they were, compelled her to move closer towards the Emperor and his advisors.

This also allowed her a closer look at the Emperor; despite his apparently plain-looking clothing, it did nothing to diminish his stature a royalty. If anything, it only served to add an air of majesty to his image. At the side of his throne, a blackish, double-bladed battleaxe rested against it, great power emanating from it.

Shepard could have sworn she was hearing voices emanating from the axe, however minute they may be.

Examining Shepard with a scrutinising gaze, as if every move she made had a fault that needed rectifying, Amarthathor looked into Shepard's emerald eyes, observing that her scarlet hair complemented her freckled face rather nicely, which made her a rather beautiful Human, one many men would love to take as a bride and loving wife.

Did he honestly think that? Amarthathor shook his head, trying to clear his head of his recent thoughts; he felt it unbecoming of him, the Emperor of the most powerful galactic power to date, distracted by the attractive looks of a Warrior woman.

Excluding her looks, the Dragonkin Emperor could see that even without knowing it, Shepard was a reaper of lives, her posture and gaze telling her everything he needed to know about this newcomer before him.

A reaper of lives, a protector of the defenceless, a selfless soul willing to put the needs of others before her own, she was such a rare jewel in a savage universe, where wars were fought with depressing regularity, and civilisations faced the danger of annihilation every day of the year.

Standing at his full height, ten feet tall, he towered above the six-feet tall woman, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her being.

Nodding his head slightly, he next words came loud and booming, despite never raising his volume to the point he was shouting, "I thank you, Shepard, for answering my call. Please, all of you, leave us, for we must discuss in private."

By the Emperor's order, all of the nobles present began to leave the room, along with a few guards – though the Spectre was certain more were hidden, leaving the Emperor and his inner circle, Shepard, and Kiritsugu in the throne room.

Not knowing how to address Amarthathor, she gave a rather awkward half-bow, having never been in the presense of nobles before.

"I see that you are the one who has slain Wyndam Clemons," Amarthathor commented, and his piercing amber eyes stared Shepard down where she stood, though she stood her ground, "I believe introductions are in order; I am Emperor Amarthathor Lavellan Sardothien; Kingmaker, Grand Master of the Empireguard... I could regale you with tales of how I earned my many titles, but it shall have to be left for another time. I believe you already acquainted with Supreme Lord Admiral Kiritsugu, so I shall introduce you to the members of my inner circle. The first is the Supreme Patriarch of the Grand Crusader Order, Aldridge Dawnbringer."

The silver-armoured man bowed in greeting, his cloak swaying as he did so. Shepard could see a thick, leather-bound book chained to his waist, the insignia of his order – resemblant of the Christian cross – visible on its cover.

"Next is Grand Matriarch Solmide Celeste, of the Arcane Order of Magi," Amarthathor introduced the crimson-clad Qunari woman, who curtly nodded at Shepard, though she regarded her with suspicion as some of the other nobles did.

"Lord Inquisitor Varkgorim Battleborne, of the Inquisition."

The Orc nodded, though Shepard had misgivings about the Empire having an Inquisition operating on its behalf.

"Lastly, Anrand Garmi, Senaschal of Thedas and Spymaster of the Empire."

The dwarf bowed in greeting, his purple cloak obscured the upper half of his face from view, so what expression adorned the Dwarf's face, Shepard was unsure.

"I regret to say that the last person I wanted to be here, Supreme Loremaster Illindar, is currently away dispatching the Empire's mortal enemies," Amarthathor said, genuinely apologetic, and Shepard wondered as to the importance of this Illindar person, "But let us not tarry, for I am keen to know more about you, Mistress..."

It dawned on Shepard that moment, that this meeting had been arranged on incredibly short notice, and given the looks of suspicion that the Qunari woman, Solmide Celeste, threw in her direction, she looked like the type that hated dealing with the unknown with an irrational hatred, something Shepard could sympathise with.

"Alexandria Shepard, my Lord," Shepard said, even though it chafed at her to address anyone as 'Lord' or 'Sire', since she disliked the notion of addressing anyone as superior, simply because of their birthright, "Professional, full-time soldier, and Spectre at your disposal."

Shepard's flippant attitude, coupled with her subdued, but noticeable expression of irritation – even if she did not know it – upon addressing Amarthathor as Lord, did not go unnoticed by any of those present, the Emperor included.

Solmide and Varkgorim did not take kindly to her attitude, their faces narrowing in response, but they kept their urge to discipline her to themselves with great restraint, whilst Anrand and Aldrige remained impassive - or at least looked the part.

Rather than take offence though, Amarthathor smiled wryly, and commented softly enough that none took notice of his words, "One who is unused to dealings with nobility, eh?"

Shepard cursed herself mentally for letting her disrespect show, but otherwise did not say anything in apology.

Harrumphing, he then decided to ask the Spectre before him, "You say you are a soldier, and a Spectre at that, yes?"

At this, Shepard nodded wordlessly.

"Do you not know the meaning of the name of 'Specter' in the Empire? I do not know what that title means for your people, but in the Empire, to be named a Specter is to be known as silent death, to deliver death's cold embrace when the enemy least expects it. In the Empire, there exists a breed of warriors we name Black Shadows, masters of sword, bow and stealth."

"Yet you are named a Spectre, and you are not the embodiment of silent death, so why do you bear that title as if you are, Mistress Shepard?" Amarthathor inquired, his piercing gaze beginning to bear down on the shorter Spectre.

Already, Shepard feel his gaze was intimidating to even the most bravest of warriors, but though his gaze was hard and uncompromising, she could not help but feel there was a slight hint of... sadness?

"In Council terms," Shepard began to explain, ignoring what she saw in "A Spectre is a spec ops agent who's granted extraordinary authority by the Council to maintain galactic stability by any means necessary."

" _Any_ means necessary?" Amarthathor asked, "Even if it means genocide?"

That last question was something Shepard did not expect, for she herself was unsure just what other Spectres before her did in the name of galactic peace, some of their deeds, imaginative or real, she did not dare guess.

"If it means that peace is maintained... yes," Shepard answered, though the last word left a terrible taste in her mouth, "However, if a Spectre is found guilty of gross misconduct, he or she can be revoked of that authority."

"A very inadequate solution, if you ask me," Varkgorim commented, stroking his thin beard with a thick, meaty hand, "Exactly why does this 'Council' of yours wish for such agents if some are prone to misusing that authority and power they are granted?"

Upon hearing those words leave the Orc's mouth, Shepard's mouth curled into a deep frown, remembering her hunt for the rouge Turian Spectre Saren Arterius, who had used his Spectre privileges to aid the Reaper Sovereign in their quest to return the Reapers – destroyers of life and civilisation – to the galaxy; time and again, she had requested the Council to take action against the Spectre and begin efforts to prepare for the inevitable Reaper invasion, only to be rebuffed by the stubborn Councillors every time, especially the Asari Councillor, for the sake of 'galactic stability'.

"Because the government will do anything to keep their peace," Shepard explained, her voice becoming strained as she continued, "Sweeping disastrous incidents under the rug, labelling evidence of invasions as lies and make-believe stories, you name it; believe me, I've had to deal with that shit more than once."

Immediately, the mood in the throne room began to sour considerably, all those present adopting frowns on their faces, even outright scowls full of contempt visible for all to see.

"But I want to ask you something, Emperor, if I may," Shepard asked, suspicions beginning to form in her mind.

"What is it then, Mistress Shepard?" Amarthathor said, wondering what the woman before her was going to ask of him.

"Exactly why are you taking so much interest in me?" Shepard asked, "I don't think you would go all the way to simply invite me to the Imperial Palace just to award me a medal of honour for killing one of your hated enemies now, would you?"

Amarthathor raised an eyebrow, surprised that the Spectre would ask such a question; it was not uncommon for an Emperor of the Empire to personally award a man or woman great honours – to the point of ennobling his or her family – for slaying a great threat to the Empire.

Though, he did see the reasoning behind her words, although perhaps, it was also given she was unfamiliar with how the Thedosian monarchy ran its affairs.

Chuckling slightly, he then answered Shepard, "I will admit, I have another reason for calling you here to the Imperial Capital; when you arrived in our galaxy, our Loremasters sensed your arrival, and there a vision was delivered unto them, of a woman with hair shining like fire, with a spirit of steely resolve and compassion. By their words, you perfectly match their description."

"Making decisions based on _visions_?" Shepard said in disbelief, a drawl in her words, "Sorry to offend you, but I don't believe in such things."

Yet again, Amarthathor was not offended, and chuckled instead.

"Perhaps anyone not of the Empire would think such, but the visions of the Loremasters are not to be taken light, for they are nothing but truthful, and hold the key to light or darkness," He said, "In other words, your presence holds great importance in the Empire. You will either bring forth great change that would take the universe by storm, or the end of all things beautiful and fair. And I believe you shall do the former, for I sense no dark intentions within you, Mistress Shepard."

"Nonsense!" Solmide protested, not believing how easily the Emperor trusted the total stranger in their midst, "She cannot possibly bring great change that would benefit the Empire! How can we be so sure she is not a spy of the burning legion?"

"I trust Amarthathor's words, Solmide," Anrand spoke, his hood concealing the agitation he was feeling, "More than once, his judgement was not mistaken, and I trust him."

"But I must share Solmide's concerns," Varkgorim interjected, "I am no Loremaster, but I believe there is a chance she may bring disaster to the Empire before we know it, even if she were no spy of the Legion."

"I have to disagree with Lady Solmide and Lord Varkgorim, Your Honours," This time it was Aldridge who spoke, "I am a Crusader serving the Holy Light, and I have spoken with many souls when they came to me for penance. I believe Shepard is no disaster for the Empire."

"Are you blind, Aldridge?" Solmide said, becoming increasingly frustrated, "The Light dies not grant one man the ability to peer into one's soul, or see through a demon's disguise! Can you truly be so sure?"

The argument was about to turn increasingly heated, the advisors' voices reaching a crescendo that reverberated throughout the halls of the palace.

"Enough!" He commanded, and all members of his inner circle were at once silent.

"I can understand some of your concerns, but I will not have my advisors bickering like little children whilst our enemies gain the advantage! Do you understand me?" Amarthathor said, his voice almost as if it was transmitted through a loudspeaker, every syllable echoing throughout the halls of the throne room.

At once, the advisors bowed their heads in shame, and promptly apologised to the Emperor, "We are sorry for acting out of line, Your Majesty."

Amarthathor nodded.

"You are pardoned, and I believe this would be a good lesson for all of you not to bicker again, yes?" He said, and they nodded, "Very well, you are dismissed. Shepard, please accompany me to the palace gardens. There, I shall answer any question you have for me."

With the members of Amarthathor's inner circle of advisors leaving the throne room one by one, Amarthathor beckoned for Shepard to follow her, and she was treated to a full, up close view of the resplendent palace gardens.

The gardens were full of flora and fauna of many varieties, the bushes and lawns full of flowers of many varieties – some of which Shepard could not recognise – and herbs imparting their fragrances into the air. Many a palace gardener tended to the gardens, ensuring all the plants were growing healthily and without disease.

Along the gardens, paved roads of shining marble went around and through the grassy ground, with several fountains of polished limestone shaped in the likeliness of flying dragons – at times stoical Knights standing in solitary guard.

Shepard was amazed at the state of the gardens; rarely had she seen a garden so vibrant and full of colour, so full of vitality, and these Thedosians had done it without any chemicals – or at least, not that she saw any in use. Yet, she was also talking with Amarthathor as they walked through the gardens, undoubtedly under the watchful eye of many guards, both visible and invisible.

"So let me get this straight," Shepard said, "This Burning Legion is an army of demons that gathered under this 'Sargeras' for the sole purpose of destroying civilisations?"

"Indeed," Amarthathor replied, "I and other members of my House, and of other noble houses, have led the Empire's armies against the Legion more times than we can count, and every day is a struggle to maintain the security of our worlds as the Legion launches its eternal, Burning Crusade."

Amarthathor suddenly pinched his nose, his expression beginning to turn sorrowful at the memory of some of the members of the House of Dirhael – the Sardothiens' ancient ancestor from the time of the Elder Days – who had perished in the accursed war against the demons, his lips curling into a deep frown.

"Far too many of my kinsmen had been slain by the damned beasts," He said in a bitter voice, "And our allies have suffered equally, both physically and emotionally, in this eternal war."

Shepard recognised the look Amarthathor had on his beautiful, scarred face. It was the same face she put on whenever she was unable to save innocent lives, including that time on the colony of Akuze, when she lost her entire squad to a Thresher Maw that rampaged on their position.

Yet, though she was one who could not read minds, she could tell he bore a far deeper sorrow than most.

"You lost someone close to you, didn't you?" Shepard said.

Amarthathor, upon hearing those words, reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a gold ring, bearing intricate patterns and a string of Draconian runes engraved on it, and a polished, cut ruby.

Fingering it with a sad longing in his eyes, Amarthathor said, "My wife, Iorisdis, was an honorary adept of the Loremasters Chapter, always recording our lore and history to ensure none of it is forgotten, for the Thedosians do not forget. She was a jewel among jewels, as beautiful as the Elven Queens of old, and a strong Dragonkin respected by many. She bore me three sons and a daughter, all proud and deserving of their heritage."

Inhaling deeply, he then said, "She was hewn down mercilessly by demons, as I accompanied her in battle. My children and I mourned her death, and our hatred for the Burning Legion increased a hundredfold, never to be extinguished so long as demons lived."

Allowing himself to lull into a state of reminiscence, a stray tear began to fall down his cheek as he began to sing a song he had composed in the Elvhen tongue, his lilting voice full of sorrow:

 _Where art thou thy loving care, Iorisdis, Iorisdis?_

 _Why do thy kinsmen mourn and distress?_

 _Fair was once the jewel of the Dragon Queens,_

 _Who soared high in the great, blue heavens;_

 _Here I weep for thee,_

 _Heart devoid of gladness and glee_.

 _Where once was a maiden, fair and beautiful,_

 _Now remains a husk lifeless and dull_.

 _Iorisdis! Iorisdis! Great is my longing for thee!_

 _Why now dost thou choosest to leave me?_

 _A rift tears open my heart to no end,_

 _Relentlessly does it tear and rend!_

 _No fairer woman I have met who rivalled the beauty,_

 _of the Elves who were beautiful and dainty_.

 _Iorisdis! Iorisdis! Now I bid thee farewell!_

 _No longer in my company shall you dwell!_

Shepard heard every syllable pull at her heart, in spite of her having no knowledge of the tongue of the Elves; here before her was a man who lost someone close to him, his beloved wife of old slain at the hands of monsters, and suffered heart-wrenching grief as he did. Like him, she had lost a beloved family member, that being her own younger brother, and she felt he had earned her heartfelt sympathy.

She wondered if he had difficulty coping with such loss when she died; after she lost her father and brother, her nights were plauged with nightmares of their deaths, and of everyone else she knew on Mindior before its fateful razing. Even with the comfort of her mother and years of therapy sessions with psychiatrists, she could not banish the nightmares from her mind.

"Forgive me," Amarthathor said, having placed his wife's ring away, "I did not bring you here to listen to my laments."

"It's fine, I can see what you're going through," Shepard said.

They walked for a few minutes longer, then deciding to walk along the ramparts for a more scenic view, and on the walls they saw a full view of the prosperous city beneath them, bustling with activity just as Shepard saw on the Icefox transport.

"This is but one of many fair beacons of civilisation, Mistress Shepard," Amarthathor said, gliding a hand along the smooth stone of the crenellations, "This is one of many messages of defiance to the Burning Legion: We shall not simply survive in this savage universe, but thrive, and build great cities that will stand the test of time."

"Ere the building of the Empire, and perhaps the building of many galactic civilisations themselves, was a dominion of Dragonkin, its reach as far as the cosmos itself – hundreds upon hundreds of planets inhabited by their kind, the length of its reign measured in aeons. Coexisting with my Draconian ancestors were the Humans and Elves of old, in a time we know as the Elder Days."

Shepard halted Amarthathor in his thoughts and said, "Hold on, you said there were ancient Humans? Ancient _space-faring_ Humans and space Elves?"

Amarthathor nodded, and he cast his gaze upon the near-endless horizon of buildings and gardens, ships and dragons that dotted the landscape before he continued.

"Many Gifts they traded with each other; magical stones with the power of seeing both the past and future, technology incapable of being surpassed by any but its creators' disciples. And in that time, Dirhael, first of my House, ruled over his people with a kind but firm heart, and he was proudly named Elf-friend and Human-friend by many."

"Yet that was not to last. In the last days of that Golden Age, a great enemy of whose identity I know not swept through the domains of all three races with impunity, slaughtering every man, woman and child in sight. Valiantly my ancestors fought, making the Great Enemy pay for their transgressions with their lives, but it was not enough, and they were beaten back to their old home, Ith'janar."

"My ancestors knew they could not defeat this Enemy, not even with their level of technology and mastery of magic, and so they put in place a contingency plan, one that would ensure the survival of all three races and the delay of the Enemy's coming."

Amarthathor sighed heavily, as if disappointed at something.

"Would that our Loremasters and Chroniclers had known more, I would have told you more. Sadly, few records of the Elder Days survived that period, many of them having been lost to the sands of time," He said, and once again, he gazed outwards towards the cities below, "I am aware that you are a soldier, so I shall ask this of thee: Art thou willing still to fight?"

Shepard felt his piercing gaze fall upon her, and she could feel him gazing into her heart, yet never did she falter, and at once, with a steely resolve, she confidently said, "I've been fighting my whole life to protect people, and I'm damn good at fighting. If I need to fight, than you'll be damn sure I will."

Amarthathor smiled, impressed by her resolve, despite her having confronted an enemy she was unused to.

"Then I make you an offer, Mistress Shepard," Amarthathor said, "You shall serve as an officer of the Empire, in command of an army of Guardsmen and men-at-arms. Though I have no doubts as to your capabilities, you are still unproven and unblooded, so you shall have to earn your keep as you rise up the ranks. Do we have an accord?"

Shepard smiled, happy that she was returning to the battlefield.

"We got an accord, Emperor," Shepard said, shaking his hand in appreciation, "You can bet I won't disappoint."

IIOII

When Shepard said she was being assigned to a place of importance, she was expecting it to be a frontier colony or an outpost on the front lines, under danger of being overwhelmed at any time by a demon invasion.

Yet, when she received her charge, it was the colony of Enedduin, a rather unimpressive-looking province of the Empire – at least by Thedosian standards – with few achievements to speak of, and a colony mostly untroubled by war, though it was one of the few worlds(compared to the rest of the Empire) with its wilds mostly preserved, and such wilds served as training grounds for the Empire's rangers, who proudly called themselves Fen'harel's Rangers, and numerous Avvar Beasthunters, famed for their uncanny ability to bring down beasts of any denomination.

Still, Amarthathor did say there was a reason for her being there, the reason being that trouble was beginning to stir up along the colony's borders, and there was a good chance the colony would come under assault; in war, no one could take any chances with security, even in times of peace.

She had received the rank of Centurion – the Empire's equivalent of Lieutenant, a demotion for her – and was assigned to the command of the garrison's captain, a Human by the name of Gabriel Walner.

Like Aldridge, he was taller than Shepard, towering at an astounding eight feet in height, and wore polished ebony armour with a white surcoat bearing the Laurel-wreathed Dragon worn over his breastplate, a long, black cape fastened to his left pauldron that swayed with every step he took. His bearing was regal and disciplined, and he bore a handsome face with a convex chin, a flat nose and a slender jaw, all complementing his equally appealing honey brown eyes and rich chocolate brown, close-cropped hair, a ghost of a beard visible on his jaw.

Gabriel was of noble heritage, yet he neither boasted nor cursed it, simply remaining proud of his bloodline as he maintained close relations with the men and women under his command, sharing their meals and singing their songs, all the while honing his skills in combat and never neglecting his duties as captain and governor.

Shepard had taken a liking to the noble captain not long after her arrival, and she also got along well with the soldiers of the garrison, telling them of her better days in serving the Systems Alliance and some light jokes she had managed to come up with for the soldiers' entertainment. And under Gabriel Walner's strict tutoring, Shepard had become adept with both axe and hammer, and complemented their offensive power with the defence of a shield, and an additional weapon given to her by recommendation of the Rangers, the Crossbow.

Compared to the crossbow of old, the ones used in the Empire were powered by magic, and were structured in such a way it could maintain a continuous rate of fire without having to manually pull back the bowstring after every shot. Though it was mostly the Rangers who made use of such weapons, with many favouring bow or gun, there were crossbow-wielding Knights who constantly patrolled the Empire's borders alongside their bow-wielding counterparts. Such crossbows were known as arbalests, and had criss-crossing limbs structured to allow for constant firing without the need to reload after every shot.

Parrying a swing of the sword from the man before her, she swung her wooden hammer at the man's exposed arm, which was countered by a powerful strike at the hammer's haft, followed by a stab at the ribs, which was barely deflected by her shield.

Panting heavily from exertion, she then said to the man before her, "God, you're still hard to beat, even with all the training I've got, Captain."

Smiling wryly, Gabriel said to Shepard, "Give yourself some credit, Centurion. You have learned the arts of war at an unprecedented pace that rivals even some of my best recruits by far. The way I see it, you shall undoubtedly surpass me in but a short time."

Just as they were about to continue their friendly spar, one of the soldiers ran up to the edge of the sparring ring and said, "Captain Gabriel! A messenger approaches, bearing urgent news!"

Sheathing his wooden sword – a longsword capable of being wielded by two hands, he went out of the sparring ring to meet the messenger, a Dwarf, who was frantically running towards him with urgency in his steps.

As the messenger stopped just a few paces before Gabriel, the Captain said, "Slow down, my friend. What news do you bring for me?"

Taking a few gulps of air to steady his breathing, the Dwarven messenger hastily said, "Dire news, Captain! A Tal'darim warband approaches! Arkatgyr leads them!"

Cursing vehemently in Elvhen and Common, Gabriel put aside his wooden sword and picked up his real sword, a double-bladed affair with a golden edge, a silver body and a string of letters in the draconian tongue, and shouted, "Centurion Shepard!"

"Yes, Sir!" Shepard responded promptly, saluting with a fist thumping across her chest.

"Assemble as many soldiers as you can within the hour!" Gabriel shouted, "Meet me at the mountain pass a distance from the city's southern edge!"

"Aye, Sir!"

IIOII

The Tal'darim fleet quickly warped into orbit of the bastion of Fen'harel's Rangers, just within range of the defence fleet and the garden world's planetary defences, and within seconds of their arrival, barrages of emerald orbs and lances of sapphire poured forth from both the planet's defences – from orbital defence platforms in space and groundside turrets – and the defence fleet, as the four dozen-strong Thedosian fleet scrambled their fighter craft and programmed their weapons to target the equally large enemy fleet.

In retaliation, lances of crimson energy lashed out at the Thedosian ships, eager to spill first blood and earn renown for slaying the greatest warriors of the known galaxy; crimson shields and golden barriers flared as beams and orbs impacted on them, and the void was illuminated by the great exchange of fire between the two sides as they fought each other; with shipwrecks soon beginning to form from both sides.

Unwilling to make it a protracted battle, Tal'darim Warp Prisms soon deployed planetside, bringing with them entire battalions of Legionnaires, Vanguards, and Blood Hunters (The Tal'darim counterparts of the Zealot, Immortal, and Dark Templar), with Arkatgyr personally leading his attack force.

Were it any other colony, the Tal'darim would easily overrun the hapless defenders, but as a Thedosian world, it possessed an extremely robust magical barrier conjured by the powers of the re-ascended Dragonkin, Elves and Humans capable of repelling any form of orbital bombardment, an array of weapons capable of bombarding fleets to oblivion, and greater range than their Protoss counterparts, forcing the Tal'darim to abandon any notion of obliterating the city from orbit and settling for attacking it the hard way.

And that was right where the Thedosians wanted them; having been forced to land in the wilds that had been largely preserved for training purposes, they were beset by numerous ambushes set up by Fen'harel's Rangers and Avvar Beasthunters, and they lacked aerial superiority to flush out the ambushers.

Though the Thedosians were not without casualties, they inflicted far worse losses upon their enemies, harrying them wherever possible before they would leave it to Captain Gabriel and the newly-recruited Centurion to mop up the stranglers.

Few in the Thedosian army knew that Shepard's rank had been gifted, not earned, and this was the perfect opportunity for Shepard to ptove herself worthy of her position in the army.

As the Tal'darim drew ever closer to the city, Gabriel, Shepard, and their gathered men and women lay in wait at a mountain pass, with two groups of archers and skirmishers positioned on either side of the pass on impassable cliffs that gave them a vantage point over their enemies, and the two officers and the rest of their soldiers arrayed at the very opposite end of the pass.

With their enchanted cloaks hiding them and their weapons from mortal sight, and concealed Earthquakes(Tanks with main guns that served the same purpose as howitzers) fully armed and ready for the kill, the Thedosian garrison waited patiently as the Tal'darim approached the final designated ambush site, where the Thedosians would waylay them one final time before they would retreat to the city.

As Shepard and the group of men under Gabriel's command waited at the end of the pass, she gripped her hammer and shield in grim anticipation as she recalled the battle plan Gabriel explained to her, prior to the setting up of the ambushes.

" _Listen carefully, all of you. If we are to triumph this day and prevent any further incursions on this colony by the warband that approaches, we must slay their leader; the Tal'darim are stubborn in chasing down their targets and sworn enemies, so we cannot make them give up the invasion simply by inflicting severe losses_ , _and I have no doubt_ _Arkatgyr will personally lead his force towards the city._ "

" _Our astral fleet will force the Tal'darim to land their troops outside the city in the dense jungles, where several ambushes have been laid out for them._ "

" _The plan is that our group will waylay the Tal'darim at the mountain pass before they reach the city, and slay the Protoss leader before they can even set foot near the city."_

She had never dealt with any Protoss before, so she had to defer to Gabriel's experience for this time; it would also be the first time she ever dealt with psionics, apparently a power borne of the mind, and without her biotics, she would certainly be hard-pressed to survive, if what she learned of the Protoss – let alone the Tal'darim – was true.

She had no time to ponder, though, as the Tal'darim force was already spotted over the horizon, approaching the final ambush site with impunity.

"Here they come," Gabriel whispered to her and the troops under his command, "Wait for my signal."

Silently and patiently, the ambushers waited and waited, gripping their weapons so tightly their knuckles became white, the only audible sounds being their heartbeats, and the loud thundering of Protoss armoured legs as they went within range of their bows and artillery.

Three seconds...

Two...

 _One._

At once, Gabriel gave the signal, and all hell broke loose. Hails of arrows fell upon the Protoss like an endless rain, felling many unprepared Legionnaires and Blood Hunters who did not expect the ambush, though the Vanguards immediately directed more power to their shielding and covered their comrades, if they called themselves that.

This was immediately countered by the Earthquake Tanks firing upon their enemies in an effort to soften the odds arrayed against them. Great explosions reminiscent of claps of thunder rang in the air, bright orbs of emerald expanding outwards upon impact as they depleted the Protoss' shielding and claimed more lives in their wake.

At once, a thousand Thedosian axemen, equipped with jump packs and armed with axe and handcannon, surged forth from the cliffs, slamming into the Tal'darim ranks with great ferocity as they unleashed both gun and axe upon them.

Yet it was still not enough to halt their march, and upon seeing the exit of the mountain pass, the remainder mounted a charge against the ambushers laying in wait, and Shepard's and Gabriel's men - those who were not Rangers or Beasthunters - braced themselves for a charge as they formed a shieldwall, spears and halberds arrayed at the front.

Shepard was the first to strike, her hammer immediately bypassing a Legionnaire's shielding as his skull was smashed and blue blood spilled onto the earth, before his body dissipated into a cloud of crimson psionic energy, which dispersed in the wind.

Gabriel and the rest of their men lashed out at the encroaching Tal'darim with their weapons and bows, the Captain's longsword cleaving a Blood Hunter cleanly before blocking a crimson psi-blade from a Legionnaire who tried to leap for the kill.

He was denied that opportunity, as he was immediately impaled through the heart by a silver spear from one of the Thedosian spearmen.

Soon, it devolved into a bloody melee between the two sides, as metal clashed against psionic blades; blood was spilt in rivers, armour was rent, flesh was pierced, as the Tal'darim fought with every skill and weapon they had to eliminate the ambushers before them.

Shepard was quickly proving to be worthy of her position in the Thedosian army, as she smashed and pulverized many Protoss warriors with but a hammer and shield, her skill with the hammer being put to full use as she became a whirlwind of death, her hands becoming a blur as she deftly blocked and swung, and though she had much difficulty trying to match the Tal'darim legionnaires' great strength and agility, she felt some things had truly changed in her body.

For one, she felt a rush of adrenaline unlike any other; her heart hammered in her ears, yet her senses became sharper than she thought in the heat of battle, and she felt a sense of great enjoyment in bathing in the blood of her enemies.

Never had she felt such clarity being bestowed upon her senses whilst in the midst of bloodlust filling her mind, and she was unsure whether to treat it as a boon or a bane.

The battle was nearly won when she heard a loud voice echo in her head, sneering and angry in nature.

{Gabriel!} She heard it say, {Come and face me, you coward! Now is the time that I avenge my humiliation!}

As if he heard it as well, Gabriel shouted in response, "I am no coward, Arkatgyr! But nonetheless, I welcome your challenge!"

The source of the voice was a Tal'darim Magnaguard that stood out amongst the rest; blackish, ornate armour that glowed a baleful red, wing-like claw protrusions decorating the back, and a double-bladed psi-axe in his three-fingered hands, his helmet bearing a brightly glowing ruby.

Hefting the axe in his hands, Arkatgyr bellowed, {Glory to the Tal'darim!}

And he charged fast and hard towards Gabriel, who immediately picked up a shield and, muttering a quick incantation in the arcane tongue, braced himself as the Magnaguard bashed into his shield.

The staggering force behind the blow was enough to drive Gabriel back a few inches, his boots sending dust flying, but his stance held firm, and with great might, pushed back the Magnaguard before swing his sword in a series of deft maneuveres as he went on the offensive. Steel clashed against psi-blade, sparks flying every time their blades met. Psionics clashed against might and magic, and though they were relentless and unforgiving in their assaults, neither side yielded to the other, the victor of the duel all but uncertain.

Gabriel fought with great valour and bravery, his sword-fighting style a perfect balance between offence and defence as Arkatgyr tried to break through his defence but to no avail.

Said Protoss then lashed out with a burst of psionic energy, the shockwave sending the Captain momentarily off-balance for a few seconds as he staggered to regain his bearings.

Those few seconds were enough for the Tal'darim Magnaguard to bypass the Thedosian Captain's defense as he rushed in for the kill, his psi-axe thirsting for blood.

Gabriel would deny him the opportunity.

Gathering eldritch power in his gauntleted hand, he cast forth an arc of chain lightning that drove back the Magnaguard, overwhelming the Protoss' shields as he forced Arkatgyr on the defensive, his plasma shielding overwhelmed by the arc of lightning.

Seeing the ensuing duel between Gabriel and Arkatgyr, Shepard moved in to help, only to be distracted by more Tal'darim Legionnaires as they forced her away from the fight, eager to not earn their warlord's wrath for disrupting the duel.

With the Tal'darim keeping her occupied, she could only steal brief glimpses of the duel as magic warred with psionics, neither side gaining a distinct advantage over the other.

That soon changed, however, for Gabriel had suddenly slammed his longsword into the ground, creating a shockwave of his own that threw the Protoss off-guard.

Taking advantage of the loss of balance on the Protoss' part, Gabriel swung his longsword and swiftly sliced off one of Arkatgyr's arms at the elbow, eliciting a mental scream of pain as the Magnaguard stumbled backward.

Before Gabriel could push his advantage, however, a stray plasma shot from a Vanguard cannon landed near him, taking his arm clean off and knocking him unconscious, incapacitating him momentarily. With the fall of the Captain, the Tal'darim were emboldened and began to increase the ferocity of their attack, each intent to claim the glory of taking the Captain's head while he was unconscious. Whilst the Thedosians fought harder to protect their Captain as one of them pulled his battered form away from the danger of the battlefield, they knew they could not last much longer before they would have to retreat to the city of Enedduin.

{Who was the fool that dared interrupt!?} Arkatgyr bellowed in anger as he cauterised his own bloodied arm with his own psi-blade, then marched towards the enemy lines, still eager to settle a grudge despite his wounds.

Shepard, upon seeing the state of her Captain, charged forward from the safety of her allies and engaged Arkatgyr in combat, her hammer deftly blocked by the haft of the Magnaguard's psi-axe as he directed a scathing look at the woman before him.

{What business have you in interfering, woman?} Arkatgyr snarled as he stood tall, in defiance of the pain he felt his wounds.

"I've got business in preventing you from killing the Captain, thank you very much," Shepard said as she shifted her stance, preparing to engage the Magnaguard in bloody melee.

Shepard was the first to strike, her hammer quickly blocked by Arkatgyr's psi-axe once again as she was forced back and promptly treated to the force of a shockwave as Arkatgyr lashed out with his mind, both the Spectre's mind and body suffering pain as she fell to the ground, her head feeling as if it was swimming in water after suffering a terrible concussion.

More than once, she had to roll out of the way to avoid the fell psi-axe of the Magnaguard as she was left powerless against the Protoss without her Biotics, only her great speed gifted by her new cybernetics aiding her fight against a being that was both physically strong and agile, and had the power of psionics that made him more formidable than most foes she came across during her time as Council Spectre.

Though Shepard fought valiantly with the skill of the Knights of olden and modern times, she was eventually knocked onto her back by a powerful mind blast that sent her mind reeling from shock, her senses overwhelmed as she could not hear properly or think coherently, stars swirling in her vision as she tried to reach for her hammer and shield.

Unfortunately, Arkatgyr kicked said weapons away from her and knocked her back, raising his axe to swing down upon her.

Time slowed to a standstill, Shepard's life flashing before her eyes as she could only await her fate.

 _Alexandria..._ , she heard a voice say in her mind in those moments, _Alexandria of the House of Brunhild..._

 _Who the hell...?_ Was all Shepard could think before he felt something take over her mind, and at once her eyes, hair and skin began to shine with an unnatural golden light, her mouth muttering an alien, ancient language she somehow understood, as she stretched out a hand and cast a wave of arcane magic that both shredded and rent Arkatgyr's armour, before she extended a hand in the direction of her hammer, the weapon brought to her hands by the force of telekinesis as she effortlessly caught it in mid-air by the haft.

With hammer in hand, she charged forth, wreathed in golden light as she slammed her hammer into Arkatgyr's head, the hammer easily caving in the hardened alloy and the flesh and bone beneath it.

Momentarily, both sides paused at the change in their Centurion, unsure as to what caused her transformation.

In a bid to test her powers, several Tal'darim Legionnaires charged towards her, brandishing their balefully-glowing red psi-blades as they eagerly tried to claim their glory.

In response, Shepard, still unaware of the actions of her body, knelt down as if in prayer, and swiftly uttered an incantation in the same language alien even to the other Thedosians present, and within moments, her body glowed golden, and the light became a wave of magic that swept through the Tal'darim with great force and promptly killed them, their bodies dissolving into psionic energy as they became one with the void.

Within moments, the Tal'darim were forced on the defensive as their enemies suddenly became bolder than before, and rallied to her as she led the counterattack that utterly decimated the Protoss; in Tal'darim society, it was forbidden to retreat for any reason, for it was frowned upon as the greatest shame a Tal'darim could suffer in his or her entire life, punishable by death.

As the last Tal'darim fell to the Thedosians, the defenders let out a jubilant roar at the defeat of their enemies, though their triumph was quickly forgotten as Shepard collapsed to the ground, the light fading from her body as her eyes slowly closed, the blissful touch of sleep taking over her mind.

IIOII

Shepard awoke with a groan, dizziness swirling in her head as she fought the headache plauging her like a disease. As the scent of various herbs and medicines filled her nostrils, it reminded her of the Houses of Healing back on Galathalas, where warriors and civilians alike would have their wounds memded or their diseases cured.

Slowly getting up into a sitting position, she could see that several other Thedosian warriors were being tended to, all covered in some measure of bandages stained red with blood; some got away easily with scratches and cuts, others lost entire limbs, and Healers scrambled to tend to their injuries as they pounded herbs with mortar and pestle, and used the resultant pastes to make poultices and potions that healed their patients' wounds, or used their healing magic to fulfill the same purpose. For those that were already sufficiently healed, they were given cups of tea to relieve the fatigue of both body and mind, so that they would yet fight again for the Empire.

One of them noticed that Shepard had awoken, and so he made his way to her with a cup of steaming hot tea, allowing the Spectre to notice his mane of golden brown hair and blue eyes, denoting his racial heritage as that of a High Elf, if she recalled correctly from her lessons on the Empire's history and constituent races.

"Take this, my lady. It shall soothe whatever headaches you have," The Elven healer said as he handed the cup to Shepard, which she gratefully accepted.

"Thanks," Shepard said as she took a sip of the yellow green tea, which tasted incredibly sweet, but of a natural kind, not borne of artificially processed seasoning, and immediately she felt it assuage her headache, much to her relief.

As she sipped her tea and indulged in its healing effects, her mind drifted to the words Arkatgyr had uttered during his attack on Enedduin.

 _{Come and face me, you coward! Now is the time that I avenge my humiliation!}_

Though she did not feel fond of the Tal'darim, she could tell something happened between Captain Gabriel and Arkatgyr, which made the latter want to gather a warband of Protoss and mount an attack on Enedduin, where Gabriel was stationed, and she could not think of Gabriel as the dishonourable type after getting to know him more personally as a good friend.

"How long have I been out?" Shepard asked the High Elf just as he was about to tend to the other patients.

"For no less than three days, my lady," The Elf said, then his facial expression changed to one of concern, "During which, your body has undergone... a transformation of sorts, of what nature even we Thedosians are unsure of."

Shepard became confused, having no memory of the rest of the battle with Arkatgyr after she nearly died at the hand of the Tal'darim Magnaguard, her brows furrowing as she tried to recall the events afterward, but to no avail.

"What happened exactly?" Shepard asked, "I don't remember anything after I got nearly killed by Arkatgyr."

The High Elf's lips curled in uncertainty, then said, "It would be easier to show you."

Taking a golden-rimmed mirror bearing intricate motifs of a roaring dragon and a string of glowing runes on the side, the Elven Healer held it out for Shepard to see her reflection, and immediately, Shepard was shocked at what she saw; her vivacious red hair turned a honey golden colour, her skin tone was as fair as an Elf's, her freckles gone, and her emerald orbs turned a richer, darker shade. She looked so radically different from her original appearance, that she was not even sure she could recognise herself anymore.

She was so shocked she did not notice that her grip on the mirror turned slack, and it dropped to the floor with a loud _clang_ , though the magic enchantments of the mirror prevented it from shattering the reflective glass upon impact.

Shepard could not care about such a mundane thing, for the transformation had begun to bother her greatly; no such thing had ever happened to her before, and judging by the expression the Elven Healer adopted on his face regarding her transformation, the suddenness of it was unprecedented in their entire history. And as of now, she was unsure how to handle her current appearance; she could not even care about whether she looked more beautiful in it or otherwise.

"Forgive me if I have caused thee great distress, my lady," The Elf apologised as he picked up the mirror.

"When did this happen?" Shepard asked, her hands frozen in place.

 _Codex entries:_

 _Thedosian Guardsmen: The backbone infantry of the Thedosian army, the Guardsmen form the bulk of Thedosian military forces, from militias to regular soldiers, and even mercenaries. Armed with either a sword or spear and a shield, and rifles of their choice, they are considered more skilled and deadly on the battlefield compared to most of basic units of the Korprulu Confederation or the Azerothian Coalition, but still tend to live short lives on the battlefield._

 _Fen'harel's Rangers: Masters of stealth and guerilla warfare, the Rangers' effectiveness is best employed in attacks designed to wear down the enemy through ambushes and hit-and-run attacks. When fighting an open battle, they are known for being some of the best archers to ever serve in the Empire alongside the famed Steelbowmen. Originally formed by a group of archers who named themselves in honour of Fen'harel - the Dread Wolf - after he died in battle during the War of Vengeance in 31:67 Eternal, they became masters of both bow and shadow magic through years of combat practice._

 _Thedosian Steelbowmen: Known famously by their Silverlite bows, they are close rivals of Rangers in terms of proficiency in archery, and wear armour which bestows as much protection as a Guardsman has. Originally, they were supposed to be named Silverlitebowmen, but one man decided the name was far too long, and settled for the name Steelbowman after the fact Silverlite's colour was reminiscent of shining steel._

 **A/N: So it ends with a cliffhanger. As I said, I'm studying for one of my most important exams this year, so updates will be slow. I thank you for understanding and patience, and for those also taking their exams this year, I wish them good luck.**


	5. Between a rock and a hard place Part I

**A/N: Nothing to say, actually :P**

 **Dennis Nist:** I fully understand that, but this story evolved from the DA universe, so changing the category of the story will defeat the whole purpose of it, that's why I'm leaving the category as it is.

 **luke franks94:** Already fixed.

 **Edited on 22-8-2018.**

 **Chapter four: Between a rock and a hard place part I  
**

 _"Few are those who survive a gruesome battle to live yet longer. Fewer still are those who rise to the occassion and become a hero of legend. Alexandria is one of those very few." - Emperor Amarthathor, after the Battle for Kal'Bradash_

"Ever since the moment you fell unconscious," Said a man who entered the room, his facial features inscrutable under the shadows cast by his black hood and mask. Garbed in a black undersuit and modest - if not - heavy armour, along with the black surcoat of the Eternal Dragon, he easily gave the impression of a man trained in the arts of espionage and stealth, though the presence of two silver axes on his hip suggested otherwise.

Shepard then proceeded to ask, "And who are you, really?"

The Elf noble smiled for some odd reason, and clasping a hand across his shoulder, bowed to Shepard and said, "Forgive me if I have not introduced myself. I am one of Senaschal Anrand's spies in service to the Obsidian Throne. Idrial is my name. I come bearing word from Emperor Amarthathor in light of your recent victory against the Tal'darim warlord, Arkatgyr."

"The Emperor's got something to say? Well, shoot away." Shepard said, crossing her arms.

Harrumphing, the Imperial official then unrolled a sealed vellum scroll and said, "Very well. In light of your victory against Arkatgyr, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Champion, and gain the authority to command a regiment of warriors."

At this, Shepard could not help but let a smirk dominate her face.

 _About damn time,_ Shepard thought, though the official's expression became more grave as he went on.

"Also, you are to immediately transfer to the Forge World of Kal'Bradash and report to Fourth Cornerstone General Dugin stationed there. We have received reports of a demon strike force making its way there, armed with heavy weaponry and great in number, and we believe they mean not only to conquer the Forge World, but to also gain access many secrets of our technology and arcane arts housed at the local guilds."

The messenger's voice then took a much more grim tone, "I believe I do not need to tell you the possible catastrophic consequences should this come to pass."

Shepard's silence and equally grim expression gave the messenger the answer he needed, but before he turned to leave, he pulled out a sealed envelope from his person, the wax seal bearing the Eternal Dragon, and passed it to Shepard, saying in a hushed whisper, "This letter is for your eyes only, my lady. Do not, under any circumstances, open it in the presence of others. This is a direct order from the Emperor himself."

Narrowing her eyes in confusion and part-suspicion, Shepard whispered back, "Why all the secrecy in this letter? What the hell's going on?"

Idrial then whispered, "That information, even I am unsure as to its contents. All that I know is that it is related to your recent transformation. That is all I know."

Even with those words, Shepard could not help but groan slightly; during her time as a Spectre in service to the Council, she had developed a great hatred for the unknown and with good reason; constant ambushes, political intrigue, all that was thrown at her so far had served to instil in her a great understanding for the need of knowledge, not just of the enemy, but of the possible scenarios she could encounter.

Eventually, she sighed heavily as she said, "Well, I'd best get going. Thanks for the message, and give my regards to the Emperor."

Idrial bowed at the waist and said with a smile, "I am merely doing my duty, my lady."

As she packed her things - which were incredibly few, consisting of no more than her equipment and a thick leather-bound book titled 'The Guardswoman and her mage', she was granted privilege of a personal visit from Captain Gabriel himself, the man looking no worse for the wear. Where a stump should have been, Gabriel's arm was fully healed to its original condition, as if it was never severed in the first place, though a few stitch marks were visible at where it was cut.

No longer in his armour but in a short-sleeved tunic and black breeches, Shepard was treated to a sight of a masculine, if not burly body shaped from years of experience in battle, toned muscles marred by a multitude of scars and pink spots where burns should have been.

"So I hear you have been promoted to Champion, Alexandria," Gabriel said, "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Much appreciated, Captain," Alexandria said as she continued packing her things, "Though, if you don't mind me asking, exactly what happened between you and Arkatgyr? Really?"

At this, Gabriel's expression soured so much it could curdle milk, and said, "The insufferable Tal'darim, he challenged me to a duel days just before you were stationed here in Enedduin."

"And judging by what I heard at the mountain pass while you were fighting him, he lost to you," Shepard stated.

Gabriel nodded, "I won through honourable means, using my own strength to win the duel rather than through trickery and deceit, yet Arkatgyr, being the insufferable man he was, vowed to exact vengeance on me the moment he lost, and though I expected him to challenge me once again, never did I expect he would directly make an attack on the world itself, and involve my men in this whole debacle."

Upon hearing of this information, Shepard was beginning to understand just why she was stationed on the seemingly peaceful colony of Enedduin rather than on the frontlines at the edges of Thedosian space; could the Emperor have foreseen this would happen upon hearing of Gabriel's duel with Arkatgyr, and deliberately stationed her here so as to put her to the test?

Whatever the case, she would have to ask for an explanation later; once she had saved the Forge World of Kal'Bradash, she would be able to ask all the questions she wanted from the Emperor himself.

"Well, it's been an honour serving with you," Shepard said as she extended a hand.

"The honour is all mine, Centurion, or should I say Champion?" Gabriel smirked as he gripped her forearm.

Shepard smiled, and friendly punching him in the arm, she then said, "Gotta go now, Captain. Take care, and try not to do something stupid."

Gabriel smiled in return, and said, "I shall deign to avoid doing such, Champion Shepard."

IIOII

Kal'Bradash was an incredibly old colony and one of its numerous forge worlds, dating its founding years back to when the Empire was in its early stages of expansion. With many smiths and engineers all across the Empire flocking to the planet to settle down on, it automatically became a place of great learning, where both smith and tinker would engage in friendly competition to see who was better than the other; located in the Tiberian Sector, near many fortified Sectors of the Galaxy under the Empire's rule and in close proximity to the Hofkiin sector, home to the Capital world of Thedas, it was one of the most heavily fortified planets in existence, armed with many forms of defences; orbital defence platforms, optically camouflaged mine clusters and a fleet of over a hundred ships defending the planet, Kal'Bradash was a secure world whose level of protection was rivalled only by that of other significant colonies and the Empire's homeworld of Thedas.

The planet also had many claims to fame, such as being the homeworld of the esteemed House Bradash, a family of Dwarven smiths famed for their great craftsmanship in the weapons of war, and home of the Smiths of Orzammar, an elite Dwarven fighting force (not a knightly or chivalric order) renowned for their skill with hammer and metalwork; fell-handed were they in battle, and great was their valour, worthy of knights and heroes of the olden days.

It was also the birthplace of many a Dwarven inventor and many inventions, including cybernetic limbs, Created Intelligences, and was home to many forges and factories that churned out thousands of high-quality weaponry every fortnight alongside other forge worlds within the Empire.

And it was home to many technological and magical secrets potentially capable of being used by the enemy to turn its strength against the Empire, making it a target of any greedy felon who set its sights on the power its secrets contained.

It was on this planet that Shepard would truly prove her worth to the Empire.

Disembarking from her transport, Shepard was treated to a sight of architectural wonder; great stone spires rose high in the sky, crafted out black and white stone that starkly contrasted with each other, with silver-coloured, rounded domes giving off a bright sheen in the sunlight. What looked like the citadel of Kal'Bradash towered above all the other structures in the horizon due to its position on a hill, much like how imposing the Empyrean Palace was made to look at Thedas, though this time it seemed smaller compared to the latter, and its structure seemed more boxy and angular.

Her awe had to be cut short, as the rest of her cohort was immediately ordered to report to the nearest defensive positions by bellowing officers and senior-ranking nobles, their voices clear and booming with authority, whilst they ordered other officers of Centurion rank or higher to report to the general in charge of the planet's defences.

After asking for quick but clear directions from other officers, she eventually reached the interior of the Citadel, and made her way into the designated war room, a rather spacious room filled with officers and the like, and two guards - Empireguard, she noted - who saluted her as she entered.

Dominating the room was a grey-bearded, barrel-like figure, burly and strong with thick muscles, and garbed in rather simple-looking, albeit well-crafted armour coloured a vibrant golden bronze, as if he cared little for decoration for someone of his rank, with stern green eyes and a scowl etched on his face. At his side was a hammer, blocky looking and incredibly plain save for the wider sides bearing an engraving of the Ethereal dragon.

Using a stool to oversee the holographic display of the planet and the space surrounding it, he oversaw the preparation of both the planetary defences and space fleet with fluid efficiency and curt bluntness.

Shepard immediately took a liking to the Dwarf.

Taking notice of the newcomer, the Dwarf looked up at Shepard and said, "I take it you are the new Champion from Enedduin?"

At once, Shepard saluted and said, "Sir yes sir! Champion Alexandria Shepard reporting for duty, Sir!"

The Dwarf nodded, inwardly liking the enthusiasm the new Champion showed, and said, "I am Fourth Cornerstone General Dugin of House Bradash, of the famed Smiths of Orzammar. I take it you know why this planet is currently being fortified?"

Shepard recalled that the Four Cornerstone Generals were of the highest ranking military personnel in the whole Empire - second only to the Emperor himself, each having performed great deeds in service to their nation and their people; great respect they commanded from commoner and noble alike, and mighty were the legions under their command.

To have one of the esteemed Cornerstone Generals overseeing the defense of a Core world usually meant that a great calamity was encroaching, or that the asset being defended was far too valuable to yield.

"To defend against an invasion, Sir?" Shepard said.

"That is one reason," Dugin said, "But do you know why they are attacking us in the first place?"

Shepard did not, and so she said, "No Sir."

"Then I shall explain," Said Dugin, "Kal'Bradash is one of the Empire's most heavily fortified cities and has been secure from invasion for five millennia, save one time during the Eternal War. For demons to be able to inch so close into heavily protected territory of the Empire, this suggests that someone has leaked the whereabouts of this Forge World to the Burning Legion, though we have yet to ascertain the traitor's identity."

"Do you think the traitor is operating within the Empire, Sir?" Shepard asked, concerned about this development.

"Of that, I have much doubt about it," Said General Dugin, "Long has the Empire dealt with such treachery, and developed measures to ensure any demon or demon sympathiser does not do so much as to even gain an inch into Thedosian territory, and our people hold such hatred for the demonic ilk even the lowliest of scum detest the notion of colluding with them."

"Then who could it be, sir?"

Dugin sighed, and said, "If I had more intelligence, I would tell you, Champion. But for now, as you have just been promoted, I suggest you acquaint yourself with the men stationed here and get to know them better, gain their trust and take anyone of them under your command."

At this, Shepard smirked, "That, I can definitely do, Sir."

IIOII

Shepard had rarely commanded any group of men larger than a whole regiment - equating to slightly over a thousand troops, the few times she did being when she led a punitive task force against Batarian slavers based on Torfan, and when she heroically led a defence against the slavers on Elysium; most of her missions as an N7 marine and a Spectre had only a barely minimal task force of not more than two to three skilled veterans accompanying her, especially on dangerous missions such as the investigation of strange phenomena on the colony of Zhu's Hope.

In a galaxy where mythical horrors only thought fictional were brought to life, she felt it best to find herself a larger group of soldiers to command, and make some new friends as well, while she was at it.

She had come to acquaint herself well with a Dwarven Centurion, Gorim was his name, and he was freshly promoted, just as Shepard was, and was already a commander of his own regiment of sword-wielding Guardsmen.

Wearing intricately crafted ebony armour, his honey brown beard and hair was incredibly long, thick and bushy, with several braids tied and secured with diamond clasps, and his cerulean eyes bore a spark of thirst for knowledge, which he visibly showed no matter where he went by scribbling all sorts of arcanotechnology formulae on a notebook gifted to him by his mother.

And currently, he was enjoying a particularly enlightening conversation about Shepard's early life as a soldier with the Champion herself.

"So this guy tried to sabotage me by stealing my gun and tossing it away to make me suffer confinement to the barracks, but he ended up losing his own gun in the process, which ended up in _my_ hands!" Shepard said, causing the Centurion and his fellow Guardsmen to laugh.

"By my Ancestors' beards! He must truly be so foolish to lose his weapon to you in an attempt to sabotage you!" Gorim said in-between his laughs.

Just then, their fits of laughter were rudely interrupted by a messenger, a nameless Guardsmen, who shouted, "The enemy is here! Centurion Gorim and Champion Shepard, you are to report to the War Room immediately! Cornerstone General Dugin is expecting you."

"Well, that was quick of the Legion," Gorim noted with a scowl, "Then again, those foul demons and their ilk always have a tact for fast attacks and raids."

"We'll have plenty of time to deal with them later, Gorim," Shepard said as she fetched her weapons and armour, "For now, let's see what Cornerstone General Dugin has for us."

Soon after they reported to the War Room, where Cornerstone General Dugin was holding a war council with his officers, overseeing a holographic display of the colony's layout with flickering blue and green dots representing the ground troops and defences in place, and swathes of red dots swarming on the blue dots on another display, representing the Legion invasion force and the forge world Defence Fleet respectively.

Shepard was the first to greet the General.

"Sir! Champion Alexandria Shepard, Sir!" She saluted.

"Sir! Centurion Gorim Aeducan, Sir!" Gorim saluted, briskly thumping a fist over his breastplate.

 _His family name's Aeducan?_ Shepard mentally noted, _If I remember correctly, it's one of the few Noble Houses that dates its ancestry back to before the Empire's founding years._

Noble Houses that traced their roots back ere the founding of the Empire often carried great claims to fame, whether it be the invention of great technological ideas, the slaying of terrible enemies throughout the Empire's history and so on, and usually bore sons and daughters that served with distinction and brought great honour and fame to their family names.

To hear that Gorim was a scion of one of the Noble houses was a great surprise to her indeed, but she held her tongue, and listened to the Cornerstone General as they debriefed her and Gorim.

"Centurion Gorim and Champion Shepard," Dugin said grimly, "The Legion's forces have arrived and have brought a great force to challenge our defences."

As he spoke, he brought up a holographic display of the space fleets engaging each other with great ferocity, both green and blue dots dancing around each other and vanishing one at a time.

"Our Defence Fleet has begun engaging their astral navy and are hotly contesting control of the space battle, whilst their ground forces are advancing on the city from the outskirts, aided by occasional orbital bombardment from their fleet as we speak; the barrier protecting the city has begun to falter, and already squadrons of demons are making landfall at the outer districts."

He then changed the tactical display to that of the city, with the outer districts' defences being swarmed by swathes of green dots rapidly advancing on the inner districts, the tide of enemies only held back by blue dots engaging them, whilst other blue dots began to retreat to the inner city districts.

"Our hold of the outer districts of Kal'Bradash is tenuous at best, so I need you both to lead our men to drive back the invaders and hold your ground until reinforcements arrive. Am I clear?"

"Sir yes Sir!" Shepard and Gorim said, saluting him.

IIOII

Streaks of felfire lit the skies of Kal'Bradash, the afternoon sky darkened by the fel storm that loomed overhead like a gaping, festering wound in the bright blue sky. Comets streaked towards the city walls, shattering stone and denting steel as they landed, and out from them came mighty, terrible golems engulfed in felfire, and demons of many kinds that wielded all manner of wicked, fel-enchanted weaponry and dark magic.

As the demons rushed the defenders with Machiavellian tactics, ranging from dirty feints to crude methods of preservation, the noble Thedosian garrison fought on with vigour and grim resolve, determined to defend their homes and families; thick, red blood ran in rivers along the once immaculate marble paved roads, and the Forge World, home to many a master craftsman, stank with the stench of blood rife in the air.

At the westernmost part of the city, where the beleaguered defenders were on their last legs, bodies of their fallen comrades piling along the ruined streets of Kal'Bradash, their hope arrived in the form of reinforcements, commanded by no other than newly-risen Champion Alexandria Shepard, with Centurion Gorim and his warriors at the helm; quick as lightning was their attack, and demons were mercilessly cut down by blade, hammer, firearm, whatever armament was at the disposal of the Thedosian Guardsmen. Fighting alongside them was a regiment of the Smiths of Orzammar, their skill with the hammer extending just as well to the battlefield as it did to the art of blacksmithing.

As one, the defenders fought to drive back the invaders, both green and red blood staining the carpet of stone tiles across the entire outer districts. Shepard, slaying a good fourteen demons with both hammer and crossbow, inspired the soldiers with her bravery, and with renewed spirit roared war cries as they hacked more demons as vengeance for their fallen brothers and sisters, rallying to Shepard as they moved to secure the westernmost flank.

Even as the men and women of the Thedosian Empire moved to secure the artillery emplacements and heavy machine guns on the walls, however, another comet, this one much larger than the previous ones, struck the main gate at the centre of the outermost walls, the metal gates all but thrown down in rubble as they lay crumpled on the ground. Where the gates fell, many archers and Guardsmen fell as well, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, their bodies burned beyond recognition. And where the comet impacted arose a great, terrible demon; gigantic was its size, and its body structure reminiscent of a hideous merging between mammoth and lizard, with six legs and two arms, and a massive tail that moved with every step. Its face was ugly and hideous to look at, felfire burning within its eyes and mouth, and on its forehead, and tusks jutting out of its fanged mouth. In its hands was a massive spear, its size putting that of meagre transport craft to shame.

Almost immediately, Shepard recognised the type of demon that appeared, for she could never forget the memory of one of the same kind attacking Galathalas; she also realised that with the gates thrown down, it would not be long before the invaders would start streaming through like a tide of locusts.

"By Yggdrasil and all that is fair! The main gate shall soon capitulate if reinforcements do not reach our brothers and sisters there in time!" Shouted a Guardsman in shock amidst the din of combat.

"Then we'll be those reinforcements!" Shepard shouted, then turned to the nearest group of soldiers, "You there! I want you to bolster the defences here and make sure no demon bastards makes it past your defence line! Target the orbital cannons at the demon ships to soften the odds and make them think twice about landing troops here!"

"Yes, Champion!" Saluted a Guardsman, and at once he and his comrades reclaimed the artillery pieces and orbital weaponry, and began to fire upon the demon ships in space with a zealous fervour, thinning the swarm of ruinous green insects in the skies and space just as a locust plague would be exterminated by the whims of a powerful god.

"The rest of you, with me!" Commanded Shepard, "We're reinforcing the central gate and driving back the invaders!"

"You heard her, men! For the Empire!" Shouted Gorim, raising his sword high in the air.

The warriors of Kal'Bradash, of Thedas, raised their weapons in salute, and with Champion Shepard and Centurion Gorim leading the way, marched towards the central gate to aid their brothers and sisters under duress, blowing horns loud and terrible and waving the standard of the Eternal Dragon to herald the doom of the demons who dared trespass on their soil.

IIOII

At the central gate, all hell had broken loose as the local garrison fought desperately to keep the demons at bay; mystical powers and Thedosian steel clashed against fel steel and dark magic, and green and red blood was spilled and splattered indiscriminately in every direction. Smiths of Orzammar struck with hammer and malice, eager to defend their home from the invaders as Kardrin Hammerhand, founder of the Smiths of Orzammar, did in the founding days of the Empire against the He'lith Empire of old; Guardsmen and Steelbowmen loosed blade, gun and arrow, their resolve unbroken and unyielding, their hearts stout and steadfast.

And leading the men and women at the forefront of the defence effort was none other than Dugin, son of Frarkel, of House Bradash, Fourth Cornerstone General of the Thedosian Empire, who hacked with abandon and total clarity, filled with morbid enthusiasm as he slew the hated enemies of the Empire with disciplined fury.

Yet, even as his men rallied to him and retaliated against the demons' brutal assault, many were simply knocked aside by the massive spear of the Pit Lord that commanded them, bodies splayed all across the streets of Kal'Bradash with every swipe of the polearm.

"So, I see that the leader of these warriors is an old relic," The Pit Lord said with mocking glee, and cackled as if struck mad by the good progress his minions had made in the invasion of the Forge World, "Where are the Empire's mightiest warriors now, Dugin, son of Frarkel?"

Smashing an imp's head with a hammer, Dugin coolly said, "They are everywhere, servant of Sargeras, and I will live not to see thee destroy this world and steal our secrets yet, nor will I ever suffer to see it come to pass!"

Cackling again, the massive demon mockingly said, "Oh, I am certain. Because I shall live to see your puny frame impaled upon my spear and your head held high for all to see!"

Muttering a short prayer to Malacith, the Dark Lord, Dugin braced himself and charged.

 **A/N: Back with another chapter that I've finished for you guys! So this is a chapter I have done in my spare time away from my studies, since I felt that I was being away for too long, but I am still studying for my exams, so it will be a while before I can post another chapter, but I thank those who have been patient with me all this time, and I promise you, I will post more chapters once my exams are over to make it up to you!**

 **And until then, let the Eternal Dragon be the symbol of strength and unity!**


	6. Between a rock and a hard place Part II

**A/N: I'm currently enjoying a short school holiday, so I've had a bit more time to put together this next chapter to make up for my rather long absence, and to prove that I'm not retired from fanfic just yet.**

 **I still have exams to take care of though, so I can't promise that I will be able to post more often until somewhere around the end of the year.**

 **Until then, however, enjoy reading this chapter, and my best wishes to those also taking their exams this year.**

 **Edited on 22-8-2018.**

 **Chapter V: Between a rock and a hard place Part II**

" _A good leader is not necessarily one who is possessed of great intellect or tact for battle, or one favoured by the Gods, or one skilled in oration, or one men would willingly follow. A good leader is one who can make the worst of decisions without a shred of hesitation and regret._ " - _Emperor Emmanuel Sardothien, during the early days of the Eternal War_ _  
_

Dugin Son of Frarkel was no stranger to the rigours and horrors of battle; far too many a time had he seen the crimson blood of his comrades paint the ground like crude warpaint, the mutilated bodies of his warriors litter the battlefield like a pile of discarded toys whose owners long lost interest in them, the ruined wrecks of Thedosian ships and other constructs ignited in flames as whomever of the crews manning them survived burned and choked to death.

He himself had lost his own grandfather and father to battles waged against the hated demonspawn of the Burning Legion, to the minions of Sargeras who craved the destruction of all that was fair and beautiful, and technological and magical secrets that could further their cause. He had seen the ruinous powers of the demons first-hand, of how they laid entire worlds to waste with their fel-empowered arts and weaponry, of how they obliterated entire populations of worlds in their mad-quest for universal domination, of how they whispered false promises of power to the susceptible, corrupt nobles and politicians of the Terran Dominion, the Azerothian Coalition and the weak-minded alike, and how they manipulated them into turning traitor against their liege lords and their people, said traitors having received retribution in return.

Yet now, even as he clashed with the Annihilan Ground Commander - his species known more commonly as Pit Lords - with strikes of his hammer and arcane arts honed from years of practice, he was beginning to suffer heavily in his duel; already he sported bloody gashes along his midriff and arms, even as the arcano-nanites in his bloodstream worked to clot and seal his wounds, and heavily rent and dented was his armour, his cracked and dented helmet discarded due to heavy damage. Perhaps it was merely his own opinion, but he felt he was beginning to lose his edge in recent years.

Dugin, though, was secure in the knowledge that his adversary did not come out unscathed either; his tough hide was covered in many flesh wounds leaking felblood drop by drop, his armour having suffered similar damage and was on the verge of breaking apart, and one of his tusks lay shattered on the paved stone roads, having been shattered by a strike of the Dwarf general's hammer.

Dugin's warriors, however, were not so fortunate, for their numbers had become severely reduced and their position was precarious, with squads of demons advancing on weapon emplacements on the walls and aiming to turn them against their enemies, occasional bombardment by Eredar ships only aiding their efforts as they surged onward. For every one of their dead three more demons took their place, and the possibility of them being overwhelmed became a real possibility.

Yet relent did they not, for they knew that to yield their position was to invite the demons into the deeper corners of the city and condemn many a renowned blacksmith and scholar and their families to die, and give the demons a suitable stronghold from which to conduct further incursions into Empire territory.

And, what every Thedosian wanted the least, to yield their technological secrets to them and allow them to gain another edge against the Galactic Triumvirate, and endanger galactic civilisation itself.

Every Guardsman, Ranger and Smith resolved to perish and sell themselves dearly before they would permit such things to come to pass.

"You and your warriors are persistent, I'll give you that," Said the Pit Lord in a menacing voice as he hefted his massive spear, uncaring of the throbbing pain he felt from his wounds, "But know that the Legion cannot be denied! This world shall be conquered, as will many others, and the universe will bow down to our might!"

"No, demon, not so long as one of us draws breath," Dugin grunted, hefting his hammer and shield despite his current condition, and resumed combat with his mortal enemy.

Like fanatics with a sense of purpose, Dugin and his warriors fought like men and women possessed, for every minute bought with their lives meant the city of Kal'Bradash would survive for a minute longer, and every minute bought would give more time for the full might of Battlefleet Ventris to make it on time and bring retribution to the foul servants of the Fallen Titan.

As Dugin smashed the head of an imp who saw him as easy prey, a smile formed on his face at the thought of one of many renowned fleets in the Imperial Navy laying waste to these demonspawn, and relished the thought.

IIOII

"Push forward, guys! We gotta reinforce that main gate soon!" Said Shepard as she caved in the skull of yet another demon with a strike of her shield, the succubus' corpse crumpling to the floor like a discarded ragdoll, "Gorim, have your Guardsmen cover our flanks alongside the Smiths! I want mages and Harbingers to focus fire on those bastards in front of us and blow them to kingdom come!"

"Affirmative!" Said Gorim as he bellowed to those under his command - and by extension Shepard's, "Guardsmen! I want shields protecting our heavy support and rifles covering our sides! Do not allow the demons to hamper our movements."

Like a well-oiled machine tirelessly tended to by an engineer's careful touch, Gorim's Guardsmen formed a loose shieldwall around their magi and Devastators with rifles covering their approach, allowing them to advance under heavy fire directed to them by shots of fel magic from Eredar gunners, which had already claimed the lives of several of Shepard's men; bright lances and showers of sapphire peppered the demon attackers, each melting armour, bone and flesh upon contact, and the demon gunners were forced to pull back to better positions to reduce their casualties.

As the red-skinned, bipedal Eredar gunners were taken down by precise shots from plasma rifles, however, a horde of lesser demons - mostly imps and felhounds - advanced towards the position of Shepard's strike force, which responded to their mad, undisciplined rush with a hail of plasma lances and rounds that laid waste to many a foolish demon, their bodies mercilessly and brutally mutilated into piles of gore and felblood as they continually littered the streets until they formed a rudimentary wall of bodies the demons had to climb over.

Still did the demons charge onward, uncaring of their lives or that of their comrades, and as they clambered over the fallen corpses of their fellow demons, they crashed upon the Thedosian strike force as a boulder would shatter upon a wall of stone; swift was the counter-attack of the Thedosian warriors, and the lesser demons cowered and despaired upon seeing so many of their kind slaughtered by their mortal enemies, for the Guardsmen were discipline and focus personified, and the Smiths of Orzammar were fell-handed and brave, and more than gladly stained their immaculate armour and heraldry with the blood of their enemies.

Precise and deadly were the Thedosian Devastators and their Steelbowmen counterparts, for each and every one of their shots landed straight on their mark, and any who believed they would be vulnerable at close quarters were sorely mistaken, and sold themselves dearly as the Thedosian gunners and archers drew sword and dagger, and fought with malice and anger, felblood staining the tips of their weapons.

In the midst of the fighting, as Shepard claimed the lives of three more dagger-wielding imps with a swing of her hammer, her transmitter beeped in her ear, signalling an incoming transmission.

" _This is Smith-Centurion Titus Generidus, of the Smiths of Orzammar under the command of Cornerstone General Dugin Bradash, is anyone receiving me on this frequency?_ " Said a slightly desperate male voice, followed by slight coughing on the other end of the comms channel.

Personally, Shepard wished the officers of the Imperial Army would at least employ call signs or nicknames rather than state their name and rank out loud on the comms channel; there was always the chance someone could hack the communications network and gain valuable intelligence to use against their enemy, after all.

"This is Champion Shepard, recently transferred from Enedduin," Said Shepard.

" _Champion,_ " The Centurion said in a pained voice, " _Our forces are doing the best they can to repel the invaders from the main gate, but without most of our cannons and orbital defences operational, the demon ships are free to bombard us at our leisure; most of our commanding officers have perished as well, and we are barely holding ourselves together._ "

"What do you need us to do?" Shepard yelled amidst the cacophony of gunfire, and had to raise her shield to protect against stray fel shots that bounced off harmlessly.

" _The Amado reactors powering our guns have been hit hard by a stray fel comet that impacted near their position at the Western Districts,_ " Said the Centurion, " _Thank the Gods for the durability of Soulsteel and Dragonstone; the reactors are mostly intact, but they have been disabled, and the power supply to our guns has been severed. I need you to find any Artificer you can and have them repair the damaged reactors. I would do it myself, but General Dugin is engaged in battle with the demon commander, and I cannot forsake him in his time of need._ "

"Understood, Centurion. Shepard out," Said Shepard, before terminating the connection, "Gorim, where can we find a group of Artificers?"

Just as she asked, a nearby building was reduced to rubble by a few fel comets impacting on it; out of the crater came forth a trio of infernals, beings of rock eternally immolated in felfire and capable of crushing a weaker enemy force with but a few of their number.

Upon seeing the Champion and her strike force not far from where they landed, they moved to strike at their enemies, but were laid to waste by black orbs of mana that crushed their heads and engulfed them in an enveloping, poltergeist-black mist that consumed their forms, until nothing, not even a single pinch of ash remained.

Their saviour was discovered to be that of a stately Qunari woman, her plain-looking helmet revealing only her horns and long silver hair, most of her features concealed within; garbed in the standard-issue armour of a Guardsman with multiple mechanical attachments on her torso and arms that constituted a form of exoskeleton. In her left hand was a zweihander, bearing many engravings along its blade with multiple letters inscribed in Qunlat, whilst her right arm was more of a cybernetic attachment, a tri-barrelled, golden-glided cannon replacing what was once an organic arm; on her pauldron was a different insignia, one that set her apart from the Imperial Guard alongside the extensive mechanical attachments found on her person.

The insignia in question was that of a laurel-wreathed Dragon manning a cannon that roared with fire, that of the Imperial Collegium Artifex - otherwise translated as Artificer Guild in Tevinter, the galaxy-wide renowned academy of engineering famous for educating many a skilled Artificer that served the Thedosian Empire with great honour for over five millennia since its creation by Fabricator-King Sebastian Sardothien during the founding days of the Empire.

Were there not demons brazenly invading Kal'Bradash, Shepard would have loved to interact with her and engage in lengthy discussions about technology for hours on end.

"You must be Champion Alexandria," The Qunari said before sharply saluting, "Fabricator-Adept Asanem Addar, of the Imperial Collegium Artifex."

"You know me?" Shepard asked in surprise.

Asanem simply said, "Do not underestimate how fast word travels in the Empire, Champion; everyone of us has heard you, the slayer of the Treacherous Snake - Wyndam Clemons. But we have no time to waste on pointless chatter."

As the last few words of her sentence left Asanem's mouth, she immediately hoisted her arm-mounted cannon and fired three consecutive shots, felling a group of felguards who approached Shepard's force from behind.

In response, Shepard unslung her crossbow and loosed a bolt in Asanem's direction, scoring a headshot on a Eredar Arbiter who tried to charge her from behind.

Without pause, Shepard told the Qunari Artificer, "We need to head to the Western Districts and repair the power lines that have been cut off from the Amado reactors there, and you're the person we need to do so."

Asanem wordlessly nodded, and together they set off for the Amado reactor plants, mercilessly and pitilessly crushing any and all opposition in their way; the numbers of the demon opposition were many, but it would avail them not, for the Thedosian strike force had the advantages of momentum, technological and fire superiority, and they capitalised on them.

After a few gruelling minutes of trudging the war-torn hellscape that Kal'Bradash had become, Shepard and her strike force had finally arrived at where the Amado power plant was supposed to be, and immediately she could hear the telltale sound of gunfire becoming louder as they neared the power plant.

They soon saw a regiment of Guardsmen valiantly holding off an incursion of demons heading straight for the power plant, guns and bows aimed at their opponents as their battle-brothers and sisters protected them with shields and barriers. Courageous, fearless and dauntless were these men and women, for they faltered not before their enemy in spite of the numerical disadvantage they suffered, a disadvantage that worsened with every one of their dead.

At the centre of their formation was a single Human man, his heraldry stained by blood and his armour battered and rent in many places, but by no means did the fire in his violet eyes dim; filled were they with rage and abhorrence at the sight of his comrades slaughtered by the hands of the demons, and where his gun failed, he resorted to fighting with blade and bare hands, the warriors under his de facto command committing actions of the like nature.

"Champion! There is a band of our fellow Guardsmen fighting demons up ahead!" Centurion Gorim said to Shepard, looking towards her for an answer to the unspoken question.

"With me, boys!" Shepard commanded without hesitation, "Let's give them a hand!"

Shepard's warriors roared approvingly, and as the demons and their traitor servants focused their attention on felling the beleaguered Guardsmen before them, they failed to take heed of the furious charge directed at their flank by another Thedosian Strike force; instantly many were felled by the momentum of the charge, and were systematically wiped out in short order.

As the last demon was executed by the hand of the de facto leader of the Guardsmen aided by Shepard's force, he turned to face Shepard, removing his damaged helmet to reveal a shockingly young freckled face marred by a couple of scars across each cheek, his short hair a vibrant chestnut brown.

"I thank thee for coming to our aid, my lady," The young Guardsman said, "Had thou not comest to our aid with such haste, I feared we would have faced utter annihilation."

"Hey, we're of the same army, it was only fair we came to help you," Shepard said, removing her helmet as well to reveal her golden hair and fair skin, "Champion Alexandria Shepard, at your service."

"Initiate Uriel Achaicus, at yours," The Guardsman said, whose expression soured considerably, "I and the warriors you see here are what remains of my regiment, the 238th Amgeforn Legionnaires."

Just then, beams of fel magic impacted near where they stood, obliterating an entire block of housing dangerously close to where the Amado power plants stood. Miraculously, either by pure luck or by divine intervention, the fel beams had not impacted directly on the reactors themselves. Though the Amado reactors looked as if they had seen better days, with the azure glowing light within them dimming somewhat, they were mostly whole, and required little repairs.

Wasting no time, Shepard ordered Asanem, "Get the reactors working again! We need to get our guns operational if we're going to stand a chance of taking down the enemy's ships in orbit!"

Wordlessly, Asanem complied, and as her mechanical arm morphed into a specialised power tool, she went to work intricately repairing the damaged circuitry within the reactors, reconnecting and mending the severed wires with sprays of arcano-nanites from one of her mechanical attachments modified into a spray gun; instantaneously were the reactors beginning to work again, the azure light housed within beginning to increase in intensity.

Yet just as the Artificer began her work, one of Shepard's Guardsmen fell with a pained squeal, a fel-poisoned dagger lodged in her throat.

"Damn it!" Shepard said as she fired her crossbow in retaliation, the guilty culprit felled by a sapphire arrow of light aimed to the head, "Form a perimeter! Heavy weapons and magic unleash suppressing fire!"

Eager to spill demon blood for their fallen comrade, the Guardsmen took their defensive positions and aimed their guns right at the encroaching demons, their brothers and sisters loosing arrow and small arms fire at the ones fighting from afar, whilst their Devastator and magi counterparts aided in the defence of the power plant, unleashing withering barrages of arcane magic and gunfire at those too many and too close for the Guardsmen alone to handle.

Where Shepard was focused fury and discipline, hacking any demon within arms reach with simple swings of her hammer, Uriel was fledgling anger and valour, scoring kills with sword and shield, and where his gun failed, he used it to brutally and efficiently club his enemies to death. By no means, however, was Gorim to be outdone; the embodiment of unyielding stubbornness, he refused to yield an inch to his enemies, instead holding his position with steadfast courage, unfazed by the magnitude of the demonic invasion force.

Yet for all their valour and prowess in combat, even the most stalwart of Guardsmen would tire after a protracted battle, and would become prone to making mistakes. Already, more Guardsmen were beginning to die, and their position was becoming precarious.

Placing a hand to her ear, Shepard said on the comms channel, "Asanem, now would be a good time to get those guns online!"

" _I need but a moment! My repairs are almost finished!_ " Asanem replied on her communicator.

"With all due respect, Lady Artificer, our men are dying here! And our guns not being operational is not helping in the slightest!" Uriel protested, then clubbed yet another demon with his spent gun, its skull crushed beneath the blow.

And as what seemed like the last of a wave of demons was slain, yet another wave bore down upon them, and they knew it would only be a matter of time before they were overwhelmed.

Without any doubt in their minds, Shepard's strike force readied themselves for a final stand, believing those moments to be their final ones.

"If this is how we die... then may we go to our ancestors with honour," Said Uriel, even as he looted a gun of one of his fallen Initiates.

"It was an honour to serve under you, Champion, however brief it may have been," Gorim said to Shepard, a look of resignation on his face.

But fate would not permit them to die this day; even as Shepard's warriors braced themselves for another attack, the telltale sound of artillery guns firing became audible to many defending the power plant, and the wave of demons that seemed so numerous were wiped out by lances of sapphire light, nothing, not even ash remaining of their corpses.

The Guardsmen let out brief ragged cheers, then adopted grim expressions as they took the time to lick their wounds; lest the commander were felled, the Battle for Kal'Bradash was far from over.

Artificer Asanem then emerged from the power plant housing the Amado reactors, her blank mask of a helmet bearing a splatter of felblood on its visor.

"Demon saboteurs tried to delay my repairing of the reactors," Asanem said, "But with the reactors operational again, so too are the guns."

"Now all that's left is the boss of these goons," Shepard muttered, then barked an order, "Get our men ready for one last charge! We take down the commander, we break the demon invasion force!"

 _Codex entries:_

 _Imperial Collegium Artifex: Created by Chief researcher Sebastian Sardothien in 11:09 for the initial express purpose of creating new weapons of war for the ascendant Thedosian Empire, it has trained countless Artificers in the arts of technological invention and innovation, and remains the most decorated and prestigious academy of technology in the known galaxy, even today. Many inventions in both military and infrastructural technology were born within the campuses of this institution._

 _Over the years during and after the Eternal War, researchers had focused their attention on improving construction techniques and salvaging technology to make the most of the materials obtained from mining operations conducted both planetside and at asteroid belts surrounding some of the Empire's worlds, as the sheer devastation inflicted by both the He'lith slavers and Tyranid swarms necessitated such research._

 _This had allowed the Empire to significantly hasten its rebuilding efforts after the end of the Eternal War, and allowed it to repay its massive financial debts owed to the Imperial Bank of Thedas that were incurred during the Tyranid invasion of Thedas._

 _Smiths of Orzammar: Initially a small congregation of skilled Dwarven runesmiths from the ancient Dwarven City of Orzammar, it had grown into a Chivalric Order that devotes itself to discovering new secrets in the crafting of rune-imbuned weaponry and protecting said secrets; a predominant Dwarven fighting force, its warriors are adept in the use of the hammer and shield, and are renowned Shock troopers capable of breaking enemy lines with heavy charges._

 _Artificers: Engineers trained in the Imperial Collegium Artifex, they are known to replace parts of their flesh with cybernetic implants to improve their performance in maintaining machinery and guns, and are primarily responsible for maintaining and improving upon all technology the Thedosian Empire employs both in battle and at home. Most Artificers rely on combat drones and guns to fight, though they do not shy from melee with blade or power claws._

 _Devastators: Guardsmen armed with portable heavier weaponry including blasters and pulse guns, they provide covering fire for their comrades in the offensive or defensive, and and notorious among demon and ally alike for laying waste to swathes of soldiers in mere moments.  
_

 _Imperial Guard: The single largest, most coherent fighting force serving the Obsidian Throne, it is comprised of the numerous regiments of Guardsmen, Rangers, and other combat specialists that maintain constant vigil over their respective homeworlds, always ready to respond to incursions carried out in Imperial territory and to crush them with terrifying force and brutal efficiency. It is the successor to the long-defunct Imperial Army, which had ceased to exist since Emperor Amarthathor enacted the Imperial Reformation in 35:97 Eternal; it completely restructured Imperial military command and tactics in battle, and gave birth to a new breed of warriors who were deemed much more ferocious and deadly on the battlefield than their predecessors._

 _Each Regiment serving in the Imperial Guard has at least one officer of Centurion rank to command it, and though each come from different worlds, they all wear a uniform black armour with the heraldry of the Eternal Dragon tailored on their battle surcoats, and numbers at least two thousand men and women at the very minimum, though other regiments of renown such as the 1st Silver Legion number as many as five hundred thousand, and carry great claims to fame as do Knights and Artificers._

 **A/N: And that's it for this chapter. I admit it was a little short, but I had a few things to take care of in school, so I did not have as much time as I thought I would, but nonetheless, read and enjoy, and please tell me what you think in the reviews!**

 **None shall challenge the Empire of Warriors!**


	7. Between a rock and a hard place Part III

**A/N: My exams have just finished, and I have graduated from Secondary school! (For those who don't know what it is, it's the equivalent of High School for some of you). Thanks to all the readers who have been patient during my absence, so your reward is another chapter!  
**

 **I'll have more time to write for about a few months until I resume my studies, so until then, I'll do my best to update more frequently for this period.**

 **Edited on 22-8-2018.**

 **Chapter VI: Between a rock and a hard place Part III**

" _At first I blamed myself for every single soul I couldn't save. It wasn't until during the invasion of Kal'bradash that I began blaming the bastards for taking away so many lives._ " - _Champion Shepard, after the Siege of Kal'Bradash_

" _Long have I had my suspicions about the ancient power that awakened within Alexandria's body. It was not until but a few days later I finally discovered her true heritage from the Elder Days._ " - _Emperor Amarthathor Lavellan Sardothien, after the Siege of Kal'Bradash_

"In forge we work with hammer and anvil, to craft works of wonder and peril! In war we fight with hammer and shield, to weather our foes and strike with courage unyielding!

We are Smiths of Orzammar, who craft in peace and peril, who praise works of magnificence and wonder, and who spurn works of malice and disaster; we skirt the line between warrior and craftsman, and aspire to work for the glory of the Empire of Thedas!

Hereby do we swear by the Gods of the Imperial Pantheon, that none shall find us wanting, that none shall doubt our skill in metalcraft, lest we be cursed by sloth and heresy! Hereby do we swear, that we shall remain faithful smiths, dedicated to our craft until the very end!

We are Smiths until the bitter end!"

\- _Smiths of Orzammar_

In the battle for control of Kal'Bradash's outer space, it had become a veritable landscape of chaos; Thedosian ships constituting the Forge World's Planetary Defence Fleet loosed volley upon volley of sapphire lances of plasma against their fel counterparts, ancient runes dotting their guns imbuing every shot with arcane power as they struck against the fel barriers of the Legion's ships within their reach, even as their enemies returned fire with bolts of concentrated fel magic and fel-empowered weaponry.

Shipwrecks from both sides littered the cold void with their emaciated carcasses, each side refusing to yield a single inch towards the bitter enemy that lay before them, preferring instead to sell themselves dearly with blood and steel; such was the way of the galaxy, to adapt and prepare always for war and the destruction that followed, or to suffer painful misery and utter humiliation that echoed with the laughter of thirsting Gods that dwelt in the heavens above as their extinction followed. None were spared from this ironclad rule, not even the Empire of Thedas, one of the most powerful interstellar empires to exist among the known parts of the endless cosmos since its creation over six millennia ago.

Such were the thoughts of one Captain Siegfried, daughter of Eigsteir, honorary Reaver of the Orening Chiefdom and veteran of multiple sieges and skirmishes against the Legion from without and within the Empire's territory over her two hundred and forty-seven years of blessed life - a mere trifle in the passage of time and a Thedosian's immortal lifespan since the removal of age's effects on Thedosian mortal flesh.

Clad in modern yet ancient armour worn by her father since the early days of conflict between the Galactic Triumvirate and the Burning Legion, it was replete with Avvar motifs and runic spells imbued into its metal plates, a single surcoat bearing the heraldry of the Eternal Dragon overlapping her breastplate. Over her armour she wore a sleeveless violet greatcoat trimmed with silver thread, a pelt of sable fur attached to its upper half.

With her helmet removed and attached to her belt by a magnetic lock, anyone could see her fiery orange hair tied into a single braid that barely touched below her shoulders, a symbol of the powers of pyromancy that coursed through every fibre of her being. She was also a beautiful woman, her beige skin radiant and aglow with not a single blemish on her flawless skin, her thin lips set in a grim line as her steely amber eyes assessed the situation of the battle before her. With a necklace of fangs worn around her neck and red warpaint adorning her grim yet beautiful face, these simple, trivial things she bore represented her pride in her Orening heritage.

As of now, they were temporarily holding their ground against the demons, albeit barely, with the main gates of the city thrown down and most of its orbital defences offline due to a lucky strike on one of the vital Amado power plants; though said power plant was restarted through the efforts of Kal'Bradash's proudest and fiercest of warriors, and many of the orbital guns back online, it did little to turn the tide of battle. Already, more Imperial ships were being destroyed than scoring blood against their enemies, and the defenders were drowning in a tide of their own blood.

To further aggravate the situation, it seemed the Legion's invasion of the Forge World was an elaborate scheme in the making; their fleet was positioned such that the Planetary Defence fleet received minimal support from the orbital defences, and it was where their guns were able to more accurately target the planetside defences and power generators.

As much as Siegfried wished to deploy additional ground forces to aid the defensive effort planetside, a swarm of Eredar craft was what stood between them and their fellow comrades on the Forge World, ruling out the option of teleporting reinforcements to the Fortress; unlike the Protoss, who could teleport their forces at will directly from their ships with the aid of void energy conduits called pylons, Thedosian forces launched an orbital drop of teleporting beacons that would traverse space before impacting on the ground, after which they could retaliate with quick momentum and surprise on their side.

With an entire fleet of enemy ships forming a blockade between them and the Forge World, however, Siegfried did not see the beacons heading far. Moreover, with the ever-present danger of demon boarding parties looking to sabotage and destroy ships from within, there were only so many Guardsmen that could be spared from the ships' crews before they became dangerously undermanned.

 _Alas, our brothers and sisters planetside will have to do what they can on our own,_ Was the thought of Captain Siegfried, as she oversaw the exchange of void combat between the planetary defence fleet and the invading demon ships.

Just then, a hard impact rocked the ship, followed by the ship's alarms ringing like snarling beasts as the ship's crew moved to discern the cause of the impact.

"Captain! Our port side has just suffered damage from a fel torpedo! Multiple turrets have been destroyed and at least three decks depressurized!" Reported a ship ensign.

Without batting an eyelid, Siegfried ordered, "Have our ship's barriers engaged to maximum levels! Initiate a micro-portal jump and bring us behind the damned ship that fired on us!"

"Yes, Captain!" Said one of the crew members.

Almost immediately, Siegfried could feel the mana coursing throughout the ship as it engaged its micro-portal drive, a feeling of weightlessness coursing through her body and that of the ship's crew as the _Sword of Malacith_ \- the ship Siegfried personally commanded - changed its position; from space, the ship seemingly elongated before reappearing behind its intended target ship.

Wasting no time, Siegfried then ordered, "Charge the Nalika Cannon! I want that ship reduced to cinders!"

"Cannon is charging, preparing to fire." Said the _Sword of Malacith's_ Created Intelligence, even as the ship's prow had its metal plates shifting to reveal a large barrel of a cannon, pulsating with emerald energy as its intensifying glow heralded the demon ship's imminent demise.

"Cannon is charged and ready to fire," Said the C.I.

A predatory smile that would chill the hearts of ordinary people made its way to Siegfried's face, and with a core of steel in her words and fire burning in her eyes she commanded, "Fire!"

Thence did the cannon fire, a pulse of emerald plasma surging forth from the cannon's barrel as it effortlessly speared through the enemy ship, striking at its power core and causing its destruction as the ship's integrity was non-existent in the face of an overloading energy core.

The ship's crew let out a jubilant cheer at the ship's death throes, Siegfired herself doing the same, then once again resumed their duties with grim anticipation; just because they had destroyed a ship did not mean they had turned the tide of battle just yet, and with the whittled down numbers of the planetary defence fleet pitted against the numerically superior demon fleet, their situation was beginning to turn precarious.

"Captain! I have received a transmission from Admiral Taelan of Battlefleet Ventris! Patching him through now," Said the ship's C.I., and the holoscreen changed its view to accommodate the image of a Human Admiral, ancient yet ageless, with dark, curly hair, chocolate brown skin and cerulean eyes that shone with the wisdom of one who fought countless battles for nearly three millennia.

Siegfried's fellow Imperial Admiral then proceeded to speak the following words:

" _Captain Siegfried, this is Lord Admiral Taelan of Battlefleet Ventris, of the Tiberian Sector. I am on my way to aid you in repelling the invaders from Kal'Bradash with three hundred ships at my disposal, and are currently thirty minutes away from your position. Hold out until then, and may the Gods of the Imperial Pantheon of Thedas preserve you. Taelan out._ "

As the image of the admiral was removed from the holoscreen, Siegfried could not help but grin at the prospect of their situation taking a turn for the better; three hundred Thedosian starships was no small number to be deployed in void combat, but with the combined firepower of their guns and the discipline of their ship captains, she was thrilled by the thoughts of the heretics being mercilessly slaughtered by her fellow Thedosian brothers and sisters.

Of course, even with reinforcements only half an hour away from reaching their destination, they, by no means, could afford to slacken their defence one single bit. And so, with news spread throughout the ranks of the defenders that reinforcements would soon arrive, their morale was boosted, and with faith and determination, they rekindled their fighting spirit, and intensified their retaliation against the demon invaders.

"Captain! A group of demon ships are manoeuvring past the _Death of Heresy_ and _Dauntless Light_! They plan to bombard the Defence force's Headquarters!" Called out a ship ensign.

Siegfried sighed heavily, and quickly gave orders to her ship's crew and that of two nearby ships to intercept the enemy ships before they could fulfil their bombardment.

 _No rest for the wicked,_ Thought Siegfried grimly.

IIOII

The fighting on the surface of Kal'Bradash was equally brutal as the conflict in space, for tens of thousands of corpses littered the streets of the venerated Forge World, and so did the wrecks of hundreds of tanks, ships, fighter craft and other mechanical craft. Death permeated the air like a locust plague feasting on a field of wheat, and suffering was in no short supply as soldier and civilian alike was slaughtered by the onslaught of demonspawn filth.

And as the troops under Shepard's command moved to slay the Annihilan commander of the Legion invasion force, their already few numbers dwindled even further by constant ambushes and attacks made on them by imps, felguards, succubi and other manner of demons as headed towards the main gate, held by the Legion commander himself and some of his personal guard retinue.

Yet even as they reached their destination, they saw a bloodied General Dugin and the survivors of the few soldiers under his command being slaughtered one at a time, arrogance and complacency visible on their facial expressions, judging by how they toyed with their Thedosian enemies and the Dwarven General before them.

Bleeding and tired, it was all Cornerstone General Dugin could do to even stand tall in enduring defiance, against the tidal wave of death and destruction brought by the demon invasion, and yet it was exactly what he did; he stood tall and unmoving, his noble stature undiminished despite the grave injuries he had sustained.

Shepard saw this, and was immediately filled with admiration for Dugin for so courageously standing against his enemies despite all odds, his resolve unwavering, his stature undiminished.

Yet she knew that bravado and courage did little to stem the damage of the extent of his wounds, and that without immediate medical treatment he would surely perish from shattered bones and severe blood loss. All the while, the Annihilan commander mocked and jeered at him, and he raised his massive double-edged, double-headed glaive above his head, ready to strike his adversary one final time.

In that moment, Dugin cocked his head towards Shepard's direction, seeing her and whatever troops she rallied under her command heading his way.

They would arrive too late to save him, too late to even drag him away from his fight with the massive Annihilan before him, too late to say their final words to him as he drew his last breath.

Even then, he cast a stern gaze towards them, and through his eyes he conveyed his utmost prevalent wishes to his men in one single, unsaid sentence.

 _Drive back the invaders, and save this world._

To the utter horror of Shepard and her troops, the body of the respected Cornerstone General Dugin was crushed beneath the demon's glaive, reduced to a pile of bloody gore and bone through the force of the blow. So ended the tale of Dugin, Son of Frarkel, of House Bradash, his life extinguished by the demon menace that plagued the known galaxy for unknown millennia.

And in that moment, their anger and hatred increased a hundredfold, and many swore an oath to claim hundreds of thousands of demon heads for the death of one of their beloved military leaders, who had led the Empire's armies for centuries against its mortal enemies.

Even Champion Shepard, who had long regarded herself as one who had enormous restraint on her emotions, vowed to avenge Dugin's death that moment, in memory of his sacrifice and his long, dedicated service to the Thedosian Empire.

For the time she served in the Systems Alliance military, rarely had she ever allowed her emotions to pour forth out in the open like a river breaking a dam; in the times the Council rejected her motions to prepare the galaxy for war against the Reapers, she schooled her expression into one of neutrality, only venting her frustration in her private quarters when no one was watching by screaming into a pillow. When Alliance forces stormed the moon of Torfan and raided the slaver base stationed there, she allowed only a portion of the anger she felt towards the slaving Batarians to show.

Yet in that moment, witnessing Dugin's death, she abandoned whatever modicum of restraint she had over her anger, and shouted orders for her troops to retaliate against the Annihilan's forces.

 _This is all your fucking fault!_ Shepard thought in her anger, _If it wasn't for you bastards and your masters, none of this would have happened! None of this wanton destruction that you all seem to fucking enjoy inflicting on others!_

"Get these bastards!" She bellowed, "All troops, advance!"

"For General Dugin! For the Empire! For Emperor Amarthathor!" Yelled Gorim, who had crushed the heads of two felguards with his hammer.

"For the Empire!" All of Shepard's troops chorused, charging into the fray.

Faced with the newfound desire of vengeance overflowing from the men and women of the Empire arrayed before him, all the Pit Lord did was scoff at their display of bravado, saying, "More fools come to die? Then I shall gladly display your corpses on the highest places for all to see, so that all may learn the futility of resisting the Burning Legion!"

"Then try fighting me!" Shepard yelled, leaping from where she stood with a mighty leap, poised to smite the Pit Lord with her bloodied hammer.

In response, the Pit Lord merely backhanded Shepard away with a swing of his massive, meaty hand, knocking her off balance and causing her to land ungracefully on her back, her hammer flying out of her reach.

Attempting to take advantage of her momentary incapacitation, a few demons attempted to pounce on her with dagger and malice, only to be laid to waste by shots of emerald plasma from Asanem's arm cannon and the plasma heavy carbines in possession of the Harbingers.

As Shepard reached for her hammer and made an attempt to rush towards the Pit Lord, she was stopped in her tracks by a felguard's polearm, and narrowly avoided being scratched by the felguard's polearm - tipped with no small amount of felblood - as she rolled backward before re-assuming a defensive stance.

Said felguard wore sturdy looking, crimson armour, his torso covered only by a harness that secured his pauldrons to his person - as was customary of all felguard, and on his flesh was markings reminiscent of tattoos which pulsated with a sickly green glow, and Shepard was immediately aware of the presence of heavy traces of felblood coursing through his veins.

From what she learned of felblood, it acted as both a drug-like stimulant capable of causing one to develop a severe addiction to the substance, and as a lethal poison that caused a person's life to expire in but a matter of hours. Many times had it been deployed in the battlefield by the Legion's troops, and many times had it proven its effectiveness, having allowed outnumbered battlegroups of demons to triumph against stronger enemies, or so it was said, according to many veterans of the wars waged against the Burning Legion.

While she had yet to see its actual effects on the battlefield, having only fought the Legion's forces on one occasion, she was not one to take chances when faced with unknown variables; always had she hated the unknown, for always had the unknown sought to slay her when she least expected it.

"Ah, good," Said the domineering Pit Lord in his arrogance, "Lieutenant Argorath, dispose of this fool of a woman before me. I will not waste my time on weaklings such as she."

"Your will be done, my Lord," Said the felguard, and he swung his glaive once again, which Shepard deflected easily enough with her shield.

Her grip on her shield buckled slightly however, as Shepard underestimated the strength of the demon as she angled her shield sideways, allowing the glaive to slide harmlessly off her shield in a shower of sparks.

As Shepard fought with the felguard Argorath, soulsteel clashing against fel steel, Shepard noted that even with her enhanced agility and strength granted by her cybernetics, she was matched by the felguard in those traits, as each of Argorath's blows she deflected with her hammer or shield contained such force that it was capable of throwing a warrior off-balance or even shattering one's bones, and he threw them with surprising speed despite his bulky stature and large weapon in hand, all of it testament to the effects of felblood as a stimulant in the battlefield.

Worse still, Argorath showed no signs of fatigue, despite having expended what seemed to be a great amount of energy from swinging his massive weapon, though looks could be deceiving; magic of any kind, after all, had the power to make the impossible possible, including the reduction of the weight of heavy weapons.

Even so, Shepard knew when to exploit an opening when it presented itself; as Shepard deflected yet another blow from Argorath's glaive, the felguard had left his right flank exposed, granting Shepard an opportunity. Rolling to the felguard's right side, she swung her hammer and struck Argorath's knee, crushing both the armour protecting it and the kneecap underneath.

Seeing the felguard Lieutenant fall due to a crushed knee felt grimly satisfying to Shepard; simply because felblood could empower a demon, did not necessarily mean it could function without vital organs to support it.

And as Argorath attempted to stand, he was confounded by the state of his broken leg, which simply refused to support his body weight in his attempts to stand upright.

 _Impossible! I have been granted great power as is befitting of an officer of the Burning Legion! This should not be happening!_ Were the thoughts of Argorath even as Shepard approached him, an expression of cold, calculating anger adorning her face that chilled the felguard to the core.

Raising her hammer above Argorath, Shepard then said, "This is for General Dugin, you son of a bitch."

And she struck the killing blow, the felguard's head crushed into a bloody mess of bone and gore, Shepard's mouth filled with the abhorrent taste of felblood as drops of it touched her tongue.

She spat it out in disgust as she flicked felblood off her hammer, then turned to face the Pit Lord, whose expression was of surprise.

"Impressive," Said the Pit Lord, "Perhaps you are worthy of facing me after all."

Shepard merely scoffed, "If beating one of your lackeys earns me the right to fight you, then I suppose I should feel honoured."

"Indeed you should," Said the Pit Lord in return, wiping a trickle of felblood off his face - which leaked from a gash on his cheek - and hefting his weapon, "But now you fight one whose skill and power rivals that of the puny weaklings you and your brethren have fought so far! Prepare yourself, and let us see if you are worthy of being my adversary!"

IIOII

Gorim crushed an imp in half - one amongst over a dozen different demons he killed in over an hour, panting heavily from exertion even with his gene-boosted body granting him stamina threefold more than what normal non-boosted bodies offered. Despite Gorim's fervent faith in the capability of the Imperial Guard in repelling the invasion, he could see that Guardsmen all around him were being cut down like livestock to be culled, and without any reinforcements, the defence of Kal'Bradash was doomed to failure.

Spotting movement in the corner of his eye, Gorim turned around to slay his would-be ambusher, only to see the offending demon being cleaved in half by a swing of Uriel's sword, the young Guardsman possessing a courage that bordered on insanity as he fought onwards, despite having lost his entire regiment. Even more impressive was that he propped the banner of his regiment against the corpse of one of his brethren - the last of his men to die - and fought tooth and nail to defend corpse and dirtied banner.

Behind Gorim, Uriel was panting heavily, but gave a grim smile to the Centurion as he aimed his looted rifle at an approaching felguard, firing a precise shot that cleanly reduced his head to ash.

"What is our current status, Uriel?" Gorim asked, shouting to be heard over the cacophony of blades clashing and guns firing in the background.

"We cannot hold this position for long, Centurion," Uriel replied, "Our brethren are doing the best they can, but unless Shepard slays the Pit Lord leading this force, our chances of survival are slim."

"I truly wish there was time for us to pray for her success," Said Gorim.

"She needs no prayer, only our support," Said Uriel, "I would mind no prayer for _us_ , though."

On any other day, Gorim would have laughed.

IIOII

Shepard narrowly ducked to avoid being decapitated by the Pit Lord's massive weapon; despite the injuries he had sustained, the Pit Lord fought like a warrior freshly deployed onto the battlefield and eager to spill the blood of his enemies, and Shepard knew he was no easy enemy to defeat.

Oh, how she simply wanted all of this to end; the suffering, the perpetual shadow of death dwelling over the planet, the numbers of Imperial soldiers being slain, the death of one of the Empire's most prominent Generals. She wanted all of it to stop this instant, and she knew it could only end with the death of the Pit Lord commanding the invasion force.

Pain.

Death.

Suffering.

All of these she hated to the core.

All of these she wished to see cast out from the heartlands of the Empire, and of the Galaxy itself.

All she wanted was for the Pit Lord to die, for his lackeys to die, and for both Thedosian citizen and soldier to live to see another dawn.

And within her burned the fires of righteous fury, of smouldering anger towards the demons for causing such chaos and suffering; within her burned the desire to save every soul she possibly could, to expel the invaders with all power at her disposal, and that of her troops.

"Look at all of you sad fools!" The Pit Lord laughed, "To know Sargaeras is blessing! To join the Legion is to gain power beyond your wildest imagination! You fight against domination, and that shall be-"

"Shut up!" Shouted Shepard, "Shut up, you inhuman bastard!"

And as Shepard was filled with anger and hatred towards the Pit Lord, her eyes were aglow with golden light, and her body began to shine brightly like the morning sun, illuminating the night as if day dawned on the beleaguered defenders; as her light continued to illuminate the night, nearby Guardsmen felt their bodies filled with renewed strength, their hearts with renewed spirit and determination, and all of a sudden their wounds mattered little to them, and they renewed their retaliatory strikes against the demons with ferocity.

Even the Pit Lord was taken aback by the sudden transformation Shepard had undergone; a powerful aura she radiated from her being, one that was powerful and holy, borne of an innate desire to protect life itself from destructive forces that came from both within and without.

"What is this?" Said the Pit Lord, "What manner of warrior are you?"

As Shepard turned to face the Pit Lord, her golden eyes levelled a defiant, angry gaze into the demon's eyes itself. As she spoke, her voice boomed with power and authority, and she said, "I am your doom, servant of Sargaeras! I am light incarnate, I am justice personified, and I am the exactor of vengeance for the fallen! Cower before me, ye who serve the Burning Legion, and despair, for I shall smite thee for thy sins against creation!"

"Bah! What nonsense!" Said the Pit Lord, raising his glaive, "We are the scourge of a thousand worlds, and we shall not be-"

What he wished to say next died in his throat as Shepard raised her hand and clenched it, and instantly he was caught in a death-like grip from a hand of golden light that shrouded his being, threatening to crush him with bone-crushing force.

Roaring in defiance, the Pit Lord pushed against the golden hand of light, dispersing it with a flare of power from his own person as well.

"So, you command magic? Well, two can play that game!" Roared the Pit Lord, as he raised his glaive.

Instantly all who were nearby could feel a growing aura of dark power as the Pit Lord chanted in a foul tongue, and dark shadows issued forth from the tip of his glaive, striking Shepard's person.

If the Pit Lord hoped that Shepard would be struck dead by his magic, he was proven wrong; Shepard had erected a barrier of golden light with the palm of her hand, which easily deflected the spell of shadow magic cast by the Annihilan.

Not allowing the Pit Lord to have second thoughts on his method of dealing with her, Shepard threw forward her hammer with blinding speed and great force; too soon for the Pit Lord to notice, too fast for him to effectively dodge or deflect the weapon. With a squelch, the hammer buries itself deep into the Pit Lord's flesh, crushing the bones within his arm.

Yelling in anguish, the Pit Lord tried to swing his glaive at Shepard, only for a plasma round to impact on his shoulder. The shooter was in fact Uriel, who snarled at the Pit Lord, almost daring him to try striking down their transformed Champion.

Sensing the danger the Champion posed towards them, several demons charged towards Shepard.

Her response was to throw her shield as one would throw a frisbee, which claimed the lives of dozens of demons at first. This does not stop the others of their kind from swarming her position with their superior numbers, who quickly throw themselves onto Shepard in an attempt to forestall any of her attempts to strike with any means at her disposal.

As the Pit Lord smirked at the valiant Champion being swarmed by his minions, that soon changed to horror, when a bright golden light shone through the mass of demon bodies piling themselves on the Champion; the light burst forth in a great wave, incinerating every last demon within its reach. At this, many of the

And as the light dimmed for everyone to see, they saw the Champion unhurt and hale, as if no injury had been inflicted on her at all. And as she strode towards the Pit Lord with the grace of a noble that radiated power and authority in every stride, she struck with her hammer once again as it flew from her hands into the shoulder of the Annihilan; the holy magic infused into the hammer seared his flesh, and its tremendous force crushed the bones within, eliciting a great cry of pain from the massive, lizard-like demon before her.

"No... I had such grand plans..." Wheezed the Pit Lord.

"And your plans are forever forestalled, demon," Shepard said, "Know that as long as there are those willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of the galaxy, evil and darkness shall never triumph."

And as she finished her sentence, she jumped high enough for all to see, as she reached the height of the Pit Lord's head, golden wings of light sprouting forth from her back as she raised her hammer, and she struck down, crushing the Pit Lord's skull and embedding her hammer within.

As she landed on the ground, she was immediately engulfed by a wave of fire that gushed forth from the demon's body, whilst everyone else dived into cover to shield themselves from this imminent danger to their lives.

When it settled, they could see their transformed General standing tall and proud on the corpse of the Annihilan commander raising her hammer in triumph as she roared a war cry.

Her actions were emulated by other Guardsmen in the immediate vicinity, who cheered for their Champion and the death of the Pit Lord who claimed the lives of their Cornerstone General and dozens of others. The surviving demons who witnessed it all fled like cowards, uncaring of fame and glory and caring more for their own personal safety.

Just then, Uriel placed a finger to his ear, and his face beamed with joy as he quickly reported, "Reinforcements from Battlefleet Ventris have arrived! The tide has turned!"

The warriors of Kal'Bradash cheered at this news as they let out a jubilant roar, yet as they looked upon Shepard, they noticed that she was standing still, as if unresponsive to everything around her, the golden light in her eyes beginning to dim.

To their shock, she collapsed to the ground, and she was surrounded by her fellow Guardsmen and other Smiths of Orzammar who were in the immediate vicinity, who whisked her away towards the Houses of Healing in the Citadel.

The battle of Kal'Bradash was won, and it was from this point onwards that Shepard would begin to gain much fame throughout the Empire.

IIOII

Shepard awoke with bleary eyes, the morning sun shining in from a nearby window and illuminating the place she was resting in.

Surrounded by other survivors on beds of clean white linen, all bearing injuries of sorts; some light, some severe, all of them tended to by Healers who rushed back and forth between them in controlled chaos, carrying whatever their patients needed in trays; refreshments, potions and poultices, extra bandages to replace blood-soaked ones, their needs were great, and they had ample supply to cater to them.

 _This is the second time I've passed out... this really ought to stop,_ Thought Shepard, as she moved into a sitting position on her bed.

One of the healers noticed that she had awoken, and quickly moved to tend to her, casting a wave of blue light over her body to check for any form of injury or illness that needed treatment.

"Doctor...?" Shepard murmured, fatigued in mind, "How long have I been out?"

"Just a few hours, my Lady," The healer stated, "Surprisingly, your body is hale and requires no treatment, though your mind seems to have automatically shut down during that time, so your men had to carry you here for fear of your condition; I'd say their fears are unfounded, in fact, for neither does your mind need treatment."

"So I can go?" Shepard asked.

"Indeed you may, though it would be prudent to issue a fair warning," Said the healer, "Whatever power you used is changing you, both physically and mentally, even if you are unaware of it - I sensed it within you when your men brought you to me. Therefore, I suggest you refrain from using that power in any circumstance, unless it becomes absolutely necessary."

Shepard seemed aghast at the news; that marked the second time her unknown powers issued forth from her body, the second time she used them without actual knowledge of her body conducting it.

Without another word, Shepard immediately rushed out of the Houses of Healing to head towards her assigned quarters, which remained mostly undisturbed save for some dust and stray stone fragments scattered on the floor. She opened her bedside drawer, and taking the letter bearing the seal of the Eternal Dragon, she broke the seal, and opened the letter, eagerly reading its contents.

 _Champion Alexandria Shepard,_

 _It has come to my attention that a mysterious power previously dormant has awakened within you at Enedduin, and that it has permanently changed your appearance._

 _Upon receiving this news, I gave an immediate order for my scribes, Loremasters and other Warrior Priests of the various monastic orders in service to the faith of Thedas to scour all of our historical archives for any information on your powers, and to commune with the Gods to discern your heritage._

 _I am myself uncertain as to how much of it is true, but once they brought to me the fruits of their discovery, they said that you are descended from an ancient royal bloodline of men, men who governed the Ancient Human Empire in the time of the Elder Days before its eventual collapse; they stated that only the royal bloodline possessed such power, for they held such great attunement with the holy light that surpassed even that of the best paladins and crusaders in existence._

 _As of now, only a select few have knowledge of this information, but as knowledge of your heritage is dubious at best, I must tell you that word of your power cannot spread, for rumours spread like wildfire, and many may take advantage of such power to further their own agendas; rumours could also generate false hope, and in turn men can develop dependency on false hope to survive. I cannot have such things happening, and so by Imperial authority you are ordered to conceal your newfound abilities as best as you can until I can properly discern your true heritage.  
_

 _Signed,_

 _Emperor Amarthathor Lavellan Sardothien_

Shepard could not believe what she read in the letter; was she truly of noble heritage tracing its roots back to the Elder Days? Was she truly capable of commanding such power as her bloodline commanded for generations? Was she, in fact, part of a greater destiny that would rock the galaxy to its core?

Shepard shuddered to think of the potential consequences of this information - however dubious it may be - if word were to spread of this. Quickly folding the letter and hastily stowing it in the drawer, she quickly went to take a bath, and after asking for directions to the bath reserved for females, wasted no time in immersing herself in the hot waters to clean herself and calm her mind.

Strangely, she felt no cramps or aches in her body at all, her fatigue from yesterday's battle having mysteriously vanished like air in the middle of the night, though it quickly soothes her body as well. It felt as if she were partaking in a piece of heaven; the waters soothing her body and calming her mind, the smell of incense permeating the air as she relaxed in the hot bath.

Looking around her, she saw that despite its archaic look, with much of the bathhouse constructed from stone rather than wood, metal or concrete, it was highly advanced, as at one side of the bathhouse, there was a space bearing runestones that acted as shower heads, dispensing soap and water for people to clean themselves before entering the hot bath. At various places nearest to the hot baths, there existed stone fixtures that periodically dispensed hot water to refill the baths, with stone slabs acting as drain covers that allowed water to drain out of the bathhouse and avoid flooding of the facility.

When she had finished bathing and put on her clothes, she broke her fast at morning with all the soldiers who were stationed on Kal'Bradash, all of them celebrating their triumph with a party they had thrown for an entire week.

Many were unconcerned with hangovers as they drank away their concerns, treating themselves to various ales and wines brewed by the skilled brewers and winemakers who constantly made alcohol for Thedosian citizens to enjoy. Also did they regale each other with stories of their bravery and valour in battle, and of how they triumphed against odds arrayed against them, though some talked about the supposed transformation Champion Shepard had undergone in her fight with the Pit Lord who commanded the invasion force.

Thankfully, most dismissed it as Shepard having possessed such powers for quite some time, and made no effort to pester Shepard over the matter, though a few had concerns of their own; out of respect for Shepard's privacy and valour in yesterday's battle, or perhaps for other reasons, they let the matter rest for the time being.

Even Shepard herself partook in the festivities, telling fun stories and jokes the troops happily enjoyed, and in a single week she had the opportunity to taste nearly every wine and other spirits that were the specialty of Thedosian brewers. The only time the festivities were interrupted was when a ceremony was held to commemorate the fallen for their bravery and sacrifice in defending Kal'Bradash, with prayers conducted in the manner of the Thedosian priesthood.

A day after the festivities was spent reclaiming possessions and placing those of the deceased at a memorial site, whilst other possessions that were not sentimental were divided among the survivors.

As she rested in her quarters, she heard a knock on her door, to which she responded, "What is it?"

"Pardon me, Captain," Said one of the guards outside her door, "But one of your men wishes to discuss something with you. He says it is not urgent, but..."

"He can come in," Stated Shepard.

The door parted to reveal Uriel in his traditional Orening dress; a white tunic with tribal patterns embroidered on it in black and red, and a pelt of black fur draped over his head and shoulders, though his eyes seemed to sag, perhaps due to him unable to rest in the night.

"Uriel?" Said Shepard in surprise; the last she had seen the young Guardsman, he lay passed out on a cot, completely drained of stamina.

"Captain," Saluted Uriel, "I hope it is not an inappropriate time."

"Not really," Said Shepard, then gestured to a nearby chair, "Go on, sit."

Uriel wanted to protest, but feeling too tired to do so, he sat down.

"Captain, I have a favour to ask," Said Uriel, "Little remains of my regiment's possessions, save its standard. Most of my regiment hails from Thedas, so if you could fly the standard there, I would appreciate it."

Shepard gave him a genuine, sad smile; she could tell Uriel wished to do all he could to honour his brethren, and considering all she had done for the Empire, this was a small favour to ask from the Emperor.

"I'll do it," Said Shepard, "You have my word."

"Þakka þér fyrir, Captain," Uriel said in his native tongue.

For a few moments, the two sat in silence, neither saying a single word to break the pregnant silence that followed. As Shepard went to braid her golden hair - which she swore bore a slightly stronger golden glow, Uriel then said, "Captain, you seem shaken."

Shepard paused in her braiding, then shrugged, "I've never lost that many men before in a battle, not since... well, I mean I never expected things could get so..."

"I fully understand, Captain," Said Uriel, "Neither have I; it was, in fact, my maiden battle."

Shepard then looked at him incredulously, "That was your first battle _ever_?"

Uriel nodded, "Even with my inexperience in battle, I had to take command of what remained of my regiment; alas, all of our commanding officers were slain in battle, and we could not afford any breakdown of command in such a situation."

Shepard was then filled with admiration for Uriel; few ever dared to so quickly take up leadership of an entire group of troops in such a chaotic situation, and to do so with little to no battle experience carried massive risks that could either culminate in victory or defeat.

She smirked at the guts Uriel had in doing such drastic action, despite his apparent circumstances at the time.

"So what happens now?" Asked Uriel.

Shepard then said, "I heard that a message was sent to the Emperor and the other Cornerstone Generals detailing the events that occurred here, and there's yet to be a reply, but we might head to Thedas, or thereabouts."

"It will be good to head home," Said Uriel.

"Yeah, it will," Said Shepard, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

IIOII

After the battle of Kal'Bradash, word spread of the Emperor personally coming to the Forge World to commend and reward all the survivors who had distinguished themselves in the Defence of Kal'Bradash, and so the survivors of the battle quickly bathed, fed and clothed themselves for the momentous occasion.

As Shepard and her men, along with the other survivors of the battle marched in pride across the streets of Kal'Bradash, she could hear raucous, jubilant cheers slamming into her ear, causing her to inwardly groan.

 _It's like Elysium all over again!_ Thought Shepard with despair, _I swear, if anyone makes a statue of me, I'm gonna lose it._

Thankfully, as they assembled themselves in the main square, where the Emperor and the other members of his inner circle awaited them with an escort of Empireguard Knights, the Kal'Bradash citizenry was content to wait with silent curiosity and excitement as Emperor Amarthathor, clad in formal robes of white and black with his Winged Crown resting on his head, asked a herald to recite the names written on a scroll he unrolled.

One of them was Initiate Uriel Achaicus, who was commended for his daring leadership of his battered regiment despite all odds, and with him as the only one left of his regiment, was awarded the rank of Commander, along with the Combat Guardsman badge and the Bronze Lion, both exceptional military honours.

Then there was Centurion Gorim Aeducan, who was promoted to the rank of Champion and awarded the Elite Combatant badge, and by recommendation of his father Bhelen V Aeducan, was inducted into the Smiths of Orzammar.

Following them was a woman; Captain Siegfried, daughter of Eigster, a Reaver of the Orening Chiefdom, of the Planetary Defence Fleet, who was awarded the Silver Cross, the Star of Kal'Bradash, the Emperor's Commendation for Bravery, and the Elite Naval Expeditionary Medal.

"His Imperial Majesty calls forth Champion Alexandria Jennifer Shepard," Called out the Herald.

As Shepard approached the Emperor, she could feel the eyes of thousands of people affixing their gaze on her, all of them wondering just what honours would the Emperor award her with; surely she would earn the highest honours for her service, perhaps knighthood, or even the ennobling of her entire household?

When Shepard was within arm's reach of Amarthathor, the Emperor then said in a booming voice, his words audible for all present to hear, "Champion Alexandria, Kal'Bradash, and indeed the entire Empire, thanks you for your service and effort in defending this venerated Forge World. For duty and honour, you led your men with exemplary leadership as is befitting of a great leader, despite all the odds arrayed against you, despite all the challenges that impeded your way."

"Tragic it is to lose one of our most respected and capable Generals. Dugin Son of Frarkel has served the Empire well for over two millennia, and he will be sorely missed. Therefore, by my authority as Emperor, I award you the Star of Kal'Bradash, the Silver Cross, the Emperor's Commendation for Bravery, and the Thedosian Empire Medal. Moreover, I bestow upon you the rank of Fourth Cornerstone General," Said Amarthathor, "Arise, Fourth Cornerstone General Alexandria Shepard. Arise, and accept your charge."

Shepard did a double-take of what she just heard; was she just promoted to one of the most prestigious and powerful ranks in the military itself? Taking the issued scroll from the Emperor with numb hands, she saw it bore the signatures of the Emperor, Lord Inquisitor, Supreme Patriarch, Grand Matriarch, and Seneschal themselves.

Eventually, getting over her initial state of shock, she got up and bowed her head to Emperor Amarthathor and his advisors.

"Thank you," She said, "I will not fail you."

 **A/N: And that is it for this chapter! This chapter was longer than I expected it to be, but I just felt the need to wrap up this arc with this final chapter to make way for a new one, and so I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **Just a note, I have decided to use the Icelandic language as the traditional language of the Orenings in this fanfic, so expect more sniplets of this language to appear in future chapters.**

 **For the Eternal Dragon! For home and hearth, and the greater good!**

 **Translations:**

 **Þakka þér fyrir, Captain** \- Thank you, Captain


	8. For Hearth and Home, Part I

**A/N: Yet another chapter posted, for the glory of the Empire of warriors! Note that I'll start putting in dates in future chapters (mostly for myself) to make sense of the timeline in the story.  
**

 **And note I do not own Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Warcraft or Starcraft.**

 **ShadowDraconian:** That will be explained later on at the end of this chapter.

 **Edited on 22-8-2018.**

 **Chapter VII: For Hearth and Home Part I  
**

 _August 5th, 2185 CE/5th Matrinalis, 65:85 Eternal  
_

Shepard looked onward from a window as she watched the people of Kal'Bradash go about their daily business, whether it be Guardsmen patrolling the recently repaired streets of marble and stone, Blacksmiths forging works of metal in their home forges, or even families enjoying a nice stroll throughout the city, all the while taking a break from studying the arts of arcanotechnology in one of the laboratories housed on the Forge World, and settling the paperwork that came with organising an army and a navy.

At least two months had passed since the Battle of Kal'Bradash, two months since she had been promoted to Fourth Cornerstone General as a permanent replacement for Dugin, who had passed during the battle; little remained of his body, and whatever was left was given a funeral pyre to honour his passing. As the new Cornerstone General, she was expected to be capable of leading large armies and navies any time they were called upon for defence of the Empire, to aid its allies, and when they were called to wage offensive wars against enemies as well, so naturally, she needed a base from which she could recruit troops to her banner.

As Kal'Bradash was a fortified Forge World with great manufactories capable of churning out great weapons of war in a matter of days and weeks, Shepard decided to base herself and her army in Kal'Bradash, gaining access to the great manufactories she saw as vital to supplementing her troops' capabilities with new weapons. Moreover, with her name spreading far and wide throughout the Empire, many warriors began flocking to her banner, quickly replenishing the ranks of the world's Planetary Defence Force and Navy, and filling those of her greatly expanding army.

Moreover as Cornerstone General, she was expected to have her own coat of arms which both ally and enemy will know and remember, and to attend war council meetings with the Emperor's advisors when called upon, or with those to the rulers of the Azerothian Coalition and Korprulu Alliance.

And so, with help from a local designer for battle standards, she finally created her own battle standard which people would come to remember; a roaring lion embroidered in golden thread overlapping a depiction of Earth, with three stars above, all on a backdrop of black. While it did not resemble the Systems Alliance's insignia, it was as closest a reminder of home as she considered it.

She had also taken to learning the arts of arcanotech with the help of Fabricator-Adept Asanem Adaar, who seemed more than happy to teach her commanding officer all the Empire knew in the ways of its technology; some had their reservations about teaching Shepard, a foreigner and at best a stranger, about their technology, but what they did not know was that she was a prodigy in the arts of Mass Effect technology, having talked with some of the best scientists and engineers in Council space at the age of eighteen.

Within a month since her promotion, she had already grasped the basics of arcanotech where most would take a few months to learn, and managed to create a standard plasma rifle used by Guardsmen. Astonished at her pace of learning, many senior Artificers had gotten over their previous reservations about her and began to put effort in teaching her the more complicated aspects of arcanotechnology.

She had just finished most recent batch of paperwork and was moving to continue her studies when she saw someone approaching her.

"Cornerstone General, a Loremaster wishes to see you," An Elf male saluted.

Said Elf was one of the High Elves, with rich, honey blonde hair cascading beneath his shoulders, pale, unblemished porcelain skin, and bright, piercing emerald eyes; clad in ebony armour, he wore a sash of shamrock green, silver-trimmed linen across his breastplate, with a thick, black leather tome secured to his person with a golden chain, and on his left pauldron was the insignia of a resplendent tree. In his hand was a double-bladed axe, ornately decorated with engravings of vines that glowed a turquoise blue, not unlike the axe that Alaven wielded at Galathalas. On his neck was a necklace of gold, its head shaped to be the symbol of the Yggdrasilian faith. On his back was a black metallic cloak, woven from soulsteel fibres, trimmed with gold.

He was Rajmael Wolfheart, brother of Alaven, newly promoted Evangelist-Initiate of the Monastic Order of the Warrior Priests of Yggdrasil. Having heard of Shepard's spreading fame and of how she survived the invasion of Galathalas, where his brother was stationed before his death, he pledged himself to Shepard's service.

As the younger of two children born to a family recently rising to prominence, Rajmael always looked to his brother as a role model of a noble Warrior Priest, and both he and Alaven shared an inseparable bond of kinship with him since the loss of their parents at the tender ages of ten and twelve respectively. Both became Warrior Priests in service to Yggdrasil, and though both were separated by their differently assigned stations throughout the Empire, they still maintained frequent contact with each other at least two times a week.

To say he was devastated upon hearing about the death of his brother was an understatement; though he was not one to openly show his emotions, he nevertheless grieved for Alaven, and was present at his memorial service to personally deliver his final eulogy for his brother, but he would not stay sorrowful forever; he was Thedosian, he was a Warrior Priest of Yggdrasil, and he would fight the Empire's mortal enemies in honour of his bravery and sacrifice; to serve his country and righteous Emperor; to defend his allies and slay the traitor, the craven; to protect the children of the next generation.

As Rajmael informed Shepard of the Loremaster's arrival, he stepped aside to reveal a woman of noble stature, with heavily tanned skin, chocolate brown eyes and curly black hair arranged in a short crew cut, a single, turquoise-glowing cybernetic eye replacing her left eye. Her garb consisted of scarlet, gold-trimmed robes overlapping dark obsidian armour, held in place by a single gold chain secured with clasps at the collar. In her hands was a single sceptre of a silvery metal - silverlite, Shepard believed was its name, plain except for black-glowing runes adorning its body, and at its tip was a single glass orb thrumming with arcane power, glowing the same colour as her cybernetic eye.

At the woman's side was a single, dog-like creature with rich, brown fur, whose size surpassed even that of the largest dogs known in existence. The creature - she remembered it as being called a mabari - barked excitedly upon seeing Shepard, and Shepard could see intricate patterns of black warpaint adorning its fur. According to what Shepard studied about the Empire's customs and history, mabari were warhounds bred for war, first domesticated by the Fereldens of olden Tarendal, in the period known as the Dark Ages, where most of civilisation had technology equivalent to that of Earth's Middle Ages. As practice, Fereldens would adorn their warhounds with warpaint before sending them to battle, so as to better identify them.

Patting the mabari's head, the woman bowed in greeting, and said in a thick Anderfel accent, "Greetings, Cornerstone General Shepard. I am Arnhild Tiedemann, of the Order of Loremasters in service to the Imperial throne. I have come bearing news about a vision I had, one that concerns you."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, "And what exactly did your vision show you this time?"

Arnhild nodded, then said, "In my vision, I saw a single shard drifting endlessly through the cosmos, drifting with no end in sight, until it came crashing down on the surface of a planet, one shattered and devastated by foul powers of old; in the void and on the planet's surface, two ancient powers clash and vie for dominance of the fractured planet, and I saw them fight over possession of the shard itself."

Shepard nodded in acknowledgement; the Draenei were an ancient, technologically advanced race, long exiled from their homeworld of Argus through the treacherous actions of their long-deceased traitor leaders, Kil'jaeden and Archimonde, led to safety through the actions of Prophet Velen, the only one of the Second Duumvirate - the original governing body of the Draenei - to not turn traitor on his kind. A member race of the Azerothian Coalition, their Paladins and Priestesses have proven deadly in combat and beneficial in no small way to their allies, due to their high proficiency in Light magic.

Their crystal technology had also helped their allies gain the edge over their demon enemies time and again, and was highly sought after by many technicians and engineers of the Coalition, with others clamouring for their famed crystal weapons, said to never dull in combat, and which were easily produced by the Draenei.

"And what is this shard, exactly?" Asked Shepard.

Arnhild shook her head, "I do not know, for there was far too much fel magic interfering with my divination capabilities, only that the star was directly tied to you, and that it may lead you home."

Shepard immediately stood up; it was no secret that Shepard was on a mission to find a way home, whether it be within the Empire's borders or that of its allies, or within the enemy's territory, and that the Loremasters were maintaining vigilance for any signs given by the stars that were tied to her.

Shepard thought back to that time two months ago, when the Emperor had summoned her to the Imperial Palace.

IIOII

 _June 3rd, 2185 CE/3rd Justinian, 65:85 Eternal_

 _It was only two days after the official promotion of many officers of the Imperial Guard - over a week since the victory at Kal'Bradash against the Legion's minions - that Shepard was summoned to the Empyrean Palace, for whatever reason she could not discern, with a letter from the Emperor citing secret matters.  
_

 _Only twice had she been to the massive Palace the Emperor and his kin called home, but its massively-sized structure and aesthetically pleasing, yet practical design never ceased to amaze Shepard and the engineer within her; its contrasting ebony-silver colour scheme that created a sense of conflicting natures; the formidable ramparts from which Knights and Guardsmen alike could seemingly and indefinitely hold out against enemies; the great orbital cannons adorning its walls, placed at strategic positions to allow for maximal coverage of the skies above the Palace, all gave Shepard the feeling that the Empyrean Palace was a fortress amongst fortresses, and that any who wished to conquer it would have to sell themselves dearly._

 _She found it such a pity that no one living in Council space, even the Turians themselves, the peacekeepers of the galaxy, ever took such structural design seriously; she had to blame the Asari for lulling the known galaxy into such a state of dangerous complacency._

 _As she was escorted by a group of Empireguard Knights into an antechamber, they came into sight of the Emperor, along with Senaschal Anrand, Grand Patriarch Aldrige, Grand Matriarch Solmide, and the familiar face of Lord Inquisitor Varkgorim. As Shepard entered the antechamber, the Emperor dismissed them, and the knights saluted and left them be, though Shepard was sure they would be waiting somewhere nearby out of sight._

 _"Shepard, it is good of you to answer my summons so quickly," Amarthathor said, "Forgive me if the message you received was very cryptic; in our galaxy filled with xenos, heretics, traitors and the like, one can never be too careful with how matters of any kind are handled."_

 _Shepard nodded, seeing the logic in Amarthathor's reasoning._

 _"So what have you summoned me for this time, Emperor?" Shepard asked, not wanting to beat around the bush._

 _"Straightfoward as always, I see," Said Amarthathor, "I called you here to tell you about the most recent discoveries we have made about the factors leading to the brazen attack on the Forge World of Kal'Bradash. Anrand, if you will."_

 _Anrand nodded in acknowledgement, "Through the efforts of my spies and Varkgorim's agents scattered throughout known space, we have discovered that the traitors who leaked the coordinates of Kal'Bradash to the demons were not operating from within the Coalition or the Korprulu Alliance, but from within the Empire."_

 _"From within the Empire?" Shepard said in half-shock, half-disbelief, "I thought the Empire had measures for rooting out such people working within their borders."_

 _"Indeed we do, Cornerstone General," Said Varkgorim, "And more unexpectedly, this traitor was one of our own kin; a lone Human man, named Roland, supposedly one of the new recruits in the Imperial Guard assigned to the Forge World's garrison."_

 _Shepard was aghast at this, yet she was not surprised; a spy from the inside had leaked vital information to the enemy, culminating in a nearly devastating assault on Kal'Bradash, not unlike the time a certain rouge Turian Spectre nearly brought the end of the Council itself._

 _"And who was this man, exactly? What were his reasons for being a turncoat?" Shepard inquired._

 _"After a lengthy interrogation by my agents, we have discovered that he is -_ was _, part of the fanatical Andraste's Army." Stated Varkgorim, bringing a deep frown to Shepard's face._

 _Andraste's Army, a group of fanatics who fervently believed in the lies of the olden Orlesian Chantry, who believed that Elves and mages were less than animals and should be ostracised and exterminated from society itself, and who brought many Kingdoms to their knees with their ruthless rampaging, pillaging, and raping of these once great Kingdoms of old._

 _Shepard had learned beforehand that members of Andraste's Army were still working to sabotage the Empire from within - their methods ranging from simple murders of prominent political and military figures to suicide attacks on vital worlds crucial to the Empire's survival, and to sabotage their alliance with the other two powers of the Galactic Triumvirate in the galaxy._

 _To hear that they became so audacious as to turn to their mortal enemy to achieve their objective, she had to wonder if these fanatics were really as depraved as history stated them to be - uncaring about the means to achieve the ends, or if they themselves were betrayed from within. One did not simply strike a deal with the Legion's minions for the flimsiest of reasons, after all._

 _"And this is where it concerns you, Shepard," Said Aldrige, "The traitor Roland lured the Legion's forces to Kal'Bradash with the knowledge that you would be stationed on the Forge World as soon as we got wind of an attack being directed there, and with clear knowledge on your actual identity. Moreover, we have discovered that others have allowed him to slip through the various security measures we have established against such traitors, enabling him to sneak in a transmitter and broadcast the Forge World's coordinates."_

 _"He was not working alone," Said Shepard, a look of shock on her face._

 _"Indeed, he was not," Said Solmide, a sour expression on her face, "One of my senior-ranking mages - a somniari - had a vision of you and the potential changes that you could bring to the Empire, and supplied this information to his superiors in Andraste's Army. We have already dealt with him and the other infiltrators within our ranks, but we have assigned extra agents and spies within your army's ranks to keep an eye out for other traitors seeking to claim your life."_

 _"So you see, Shepard, there are enemies lurking all around you, looking to slay you before your work can take root," Said Amarthathor, his expression one of a no-nonsense man, "But that is not why I promoted you to your current position, Shepard. No, the real reason I summoned you here is to tell you of your true heritage. You have read my letter addressed to you, yes?"  
_

 _Shepard immediately said, "Yeah, I did. It said that my heritage might be more ancient than it seems, is that correct?"_

 _"Indeed it is, Mistress Shepard," Amarthathor said, "You are descendant of the ancient House of Brunhild, the first Queen of the ancient Human Empire from the Elder Days, a lineage over fifty millennia old, and which was thought to have been extinguished since the downfall of that Empire."_

 _Those words hit Shepard like a rock crushing her heart; she was of an ancient bloodline of nobles, royals that used to govern an interstellar empire that stretched across various star systems; colonised numerous worlds; commanded entire armies and navies to do battle in its will; and if she remembered the contents of the letter correctly, was capable of commanding great power at her fingertips._

 _"Does anyone else know of this?" Shepard asked, slightly numb._

 _"Only us and the others of my inner circle - whom I can fully trust, and some of the most senior-ranking and loyal officers serving in the Imperial Guard and Navy," Stated Amarthathor, "None of your men know this, as of yet, but if there is anyone you can trust amongst your soldiers, I suggest you do not keep them in the dark about this."_

 _Shepard nodded; Thedosians hated lies and deceit above all, after all._

 _"Actually, Emperor, there's a favour I need to ask you of," Said Shepard._

 _"And what would it be, Mistress Shepard?" Asked Amarthathor._

 _Shepard steeled herself, and then said, "I need help to find a way back home, to Council space, to the Systems Alliance."  
_

 _Amarthathor and the others present raised an eyebrow at that._

 _"Judging by how you described the Council to us, they strike me as the unscrupulous, ignorant, and arrogant type that close their ears to good advice. Why, then, do you still wish to return to them and suffer their unjustified ridicule once more?" Said Amarthathor, genuinely confused._

 _"Because there's a lot of innocent people in Council space that are in the dark about the threat coming to the galaxy, and I can't simply let them suffer for the Council's mistakes, Emperor," Said Shepard, her eyes becoming steely, "Isn't it our duty as warriors to protect the innocent in any way possible, to wage war against our mortal enemies?"_

 _Amarthathor nodded, seeing the steely resolve within her eyes. He then said, "Your desire to protect the innocent is a noble one, Mistress Shepard. Very well, I shall task the Order of Loremasters and somniari within the Arcane Order of magi to consult the stars and the fade to discover such a way."_

 _Shepard's eyes brightened, and then she bowed slightly, and said, "Thank you, Emperor, truly."_

 _Amarthathor smiled at this._

 _"You have saved one of our most important Forge Worlds from certain doom, and thousands of lives that day, Cornerstone General," He said with a genuine smile on his face, "You deserve it."_

IIOII

"Does anyone know where we can find such a planet?" Shepard asked.

"I know of only one planet with that sort of fighting," Said Rajmael, "We must travel to Argus."

"Argus? You mean the Draenei homeworld?" Inquired Shepard, to which both Arnhild and Rajmael nodded.

"It is located in the Krokul Sub-Sector - heavily contested territory, and it is where the Azerothian Coalition and remnants of the Burning Legion currently clash for dominance of the shattered planet," Stated Rajmael, "Argus' strategic location allows for the Coalition's armies to mount further attacks on other worlds claimed by the Legion, and for the Draenei, it is their original homeworld, from whence Draenei civilisation was born and thrived, and the Draenei have longed to retake it."

"However, after no fewer than eight failed expeditions into the Sub-Sector, many have grown apathetic to the Coalition's attempts at retaking Argus," Stated Arnhild.

"Why would people give up on it if it's so important to them?" Asked Shepard.

"It has been over several millennia since its fall to the Legion in ages past, Cornerstone General," Said Rajmael, "Many see it as a lost cause."

"Sometimes, it's these things that are worth fighting for." Shepard said, smiling slightly, "Rajmael, are there any expeditions currently being massed for another attempt at retaking the planet?"

Rajmael nodded, "There is currently one expedition being massed and heading towards the Krokul Sub-Sector. Their leader is a paladin serving the Holy Light, Highlord Arthur Rischer of the Argent Dawn, a veteran commander who has achieved over a score of victories against the demons in just over three years. If memory serves me right, a regiment of Lyrium Warriors is aiding their efforts as well, though control of their stronghold remains tenuous at best."

"Then that's where we're going," Said Shepard, "Rajmael, gather up the boys and prepare to move out in an hour. We're going to Argus."

 _Codex entries:_

 _Dragonkin:_ _As the most adept race at magical and combat arts and the least numerous of the denizens of the Empire, the Dragonkin are some of the most deadliest fighters of their current generation, having experienced millennia of total warfare alongside their fellow Imperials of Thedas. It is said that the Dragonkin were so deadly in combat, one of them was equal to an entire battalion of gun-wielding troops, which is not far off from actual estimates._

 _In the past, some assumed the Dragonkin to be all High Dragons - where people thought them to be all female, as female High Dragons were the only High Dragons whose existence was documented. This was later proven wrong, as male High Dragons from all over the world flocked to Ferelden in a bid to reunite with their scattered kin at the Frostback Mountains when Arl Sebastian of olden Redcliffe assumed leadership of his province. It is known that the numbers of male High Dragons were severely reduced, lower than even the numbers of female High Dragons._

 _Order of Loremasters:_ _A formidable group of Warrior-Seers, Loremasters are terrifying shock troopers, using their melee and magical prowess to devastate enemy lines alongside their brethren. They also have the abilities to divine for possible futures that fate may have planned, and their task is to advise Thedosian leaders across all echelons of the military, in order to avoid potentially devastating and disadvantageous futures._

 _Though some initially did not see the reason behind creating the Loremasters, seeing as there were already the somniari capable of divining someone's future in the fade, Emperor Emmanuel, at the time of the Order's creation in 13:01 Eternal, saw the necessity of training new Warrior-Seers, as they were more numerous than the somniari in the Arcane Order of Magi and could more readily be called upon._

 _Moreover, though a Loremaster's visions tended to be more vague than that of a somniari's, they were much safer to divine for than a somniari dreaming in the fade, as he or she could still run the risk of losing their minds in the fade due to their vulnerability._

 _Argent Dawn:_ _An Elite order of Paladins, Priests and Priestesses, the Argent Dawn was formed in year 27 of the Azerothian Calendar - 53:87 Eternal on the Thedosian Calendar - by its first Highlord, Tirion Fordragon, to combat an encroaching undead threat from the continent of Northrend to protect the world at the time. Since the time of its creation, it has served crucial roles in defeating the Undead Scourge, followed by the Second Legion invasion alongside others, and has been part of no fewer than all eight failed expeditions to retake the shattered world of Argus._

 _Its current Highlord, Arthur Rischer, is known to be leading the ninth expedition in another attempt to reclaim the Draenei homeworld, aided by a regiment of Lyrium Warriors and mercenaries from the Terran Dominion, generously donated by the enigmatic Mira Han._

 _Cult of Yggdrasil:_ _One of the predominant faiths of the Imperial Pantheon of Thedas, Yggdrasil is known as the Goddess of Life itself, her blessing coming mainly in the form of her blessed waters, able to cure untold amounts of diseases and grant any sort of boon a person desired, so long as one did not hold wickedness or evil in one's heart. Any coldhearted devil in the form of a mortal who drank of the waters was known to have suffered a violent death by asphyxiation, followed by burning to death._

 _Its defenders and advocates, the Warrior Priests of Yggdrasil, possess proficiency in the miracles and spells of the faith, and wield their customary weapon, the battleaxe, as a graceful warrior would wield in battle, mercilessly slaying mortal enemies of the Empire with steely, unflinching resolve. They also prove to be skilled healers, healing seemingly severe wounds with naught but a simply prayer, though some are also skilled herbalists like the Healers serving in the Houses of Healing._

 _Soulsteel:_ _One of the most commonly used metals in the Empire, numerous structures, weaponry and ships have been made with Soulsteel as its foundation; possessing durability and hardiness severalfold better than ordinary steel and a few other metals, and easily identified by its characteristic black colour, it has become the mainstay material of weapon manufacturing._

 _It also possesses the properties of being resistant to curses and damage that would otherwise rot the material, as it is formed from the psychic will of those who had perished; at the time of the He'lith invasion, some miners had perished in a mine possessing ore veins of a recently discovered black ore, carting lyrium as the mine collapsed from the shocks of orbital bombardment._

 _Evidence had proven that the miners had choked on lyrium before passing away in the mine, and that the fade had somehow leaked into the mine. Whatever the case, the black ore had received its constituent properties thanks to that incident, and has since been tirelessly cultivated in ore farms with the aid of earthshifters._

 **A/N: So here is another chapter I have written for you guys. I do not know if its just me or my drive to write more since my long absence, but I feel as if I'm writing much faster than I used to. Anyway, please review and read, but no flames please.  
**


	9. Update

This may sound abrupt for some of you, but I've decided to put this story on yet another hiatus.

I know some of you will find this quite annoying, given that I've been writing this on very irregular time intervals, but the reason I've decided to stop writing this story is that it has drained me quite severely in terms of mental capability, and to be frank, I've decided to write other stories that would be less complex and much simpler for all of you - at least for now, until I get my drive back to write 'Empire of Warriors'.

I thank you for your patience, and I will see you again.


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